


Blind Betrayal

by PaladinCarter



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Slow Burn, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-09-11 15:55:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 68,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8997301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaladinCarter/pseuds/PaladinCarter
Summary: Nora Hayes betrayed the Brotherhood of Steel to help the Institute, Danse, dead by her hands. When it comes to Sera Carter, more lies hide behind the truths and more questions lay concealed under answers as she tries to come to terms with her identity and absorbs the responsibilities of the woman that was supposed to change the Commonwealth.





	1. Six Bottles of Beer On the Wall...

Cool air combed through Sera’s hair as she sat in the forecastle of the Prydwen, a bottle of Gwennet Stout in her hand. Outfitted in her Brotherhood-issued ugly-as-sin jumpsuit and a comfy pair of combat boots, she’d found herself unusually relaxed in the evening warmth. Her legs dangled from the edge while she leaned against the guard rail. As she gazed over the expanse of the Commonwealth, her heart swelled with what could only be love for her home. It was the only true place deserving of the title that she had anymore after all, and even now, two hundred years later, the skyline was still beautiful when the sun set. She sighed softly as she rested the lip of her bottle upon her own and tilted it for a sip. The taste was different than it should have been; almost certainly in its age. Disgusting and pleasant at the same time.

She’d had a long day. Maxson had named his newest favorite out of the rat pack; Nora got a promotion to Paladin for killing Danse in cold blood and accepted it with smug pride. She couldn’t get the image of the woman out of her head as she strutted around, flaunting her new title wherever she could stick her nose. Sera’s closest friend had been killed to fill empty orders and Nora was dancing in her new set of T-60 power armor under a fancy new title. To top the list of shitty ideas for the day, she’d received news that the infamous Railroad was in shambles after Nora invaded with Kells’ blessing. All the destruction of the day had left Sera sitting in the silent breeze of a summer evening with the blessing of a six pack of beer.

The Brotherhood of Steel was supposed to be a shorter gig than this. Never in a million years did Sera guess that she’d be granted the rank of ‘Paladin’ after a year, or even that Danse was a synth. Then again, she also never would have guessed that she’d let herself join an institution dedicated to destroying other institutions to make more room for themselves. She was used to being a lone wolf of sorts, and yet here she was, playing pawn to Elder Maxson for her own gain while she threw her own goals out the window. Her selfish ways were escaping her. Never had she thought that she would end up sticking with any group of people for more than a few months. At heart, she felt that it was wrong to put so much stock into any militant group. She felt that it was unsafe to have people she hardly knew watching her back. She was unsure of the trustworthiness of those around her. Of many things, Sera was uncertain, all of them relating very closely to how she had somehow managed to fall in love with the Brotherhood.

Sera was an assassin first and foremost. The only reason she’d survived over the past two hundred years was because at her core, she was essentially a ghoul. Her skin was smooth and her voice hadn’t grown rough and coarse like the other ghouls, but the science goons at Mariposa Military Base had torn apart her DNA and reconstructed it beautifully so that she could withstand radiation and well… play super soldier. It worked. But she wouldn’t be the one to tell Maxson that. She wouldn’t tell anyone that she’d essentially been the success that superseded the original FEV virus.

So. The Brotherhood of Steel. Her own personal final frontier. Truth be told, she’d allowed herself to make some friends in the ranks. Brandis had been a father figure to her in the past months, Haylen taught her about some of the things she did in her own work, hell, even Proctor Ingram had become a more constant companion than a rifle had been. Sera had learned how to rebuild power armor and all the tweaks and notches, she knew how to do the scribes’ work as well as the scribes did, she knew as much as one could know. As much as she wanted to abandon the friendships and avoid the heartache, she knew she couldn’t.

And Maxson. That icy bastard was almost as stubborn and cold as she was. For the record, Sera had a very good excuse to be cold and heartless. But Maxson? He’d built a family with the Brotherhood. He’d created a legacy worthy of praise. Sera hadn’t done much more than play lab rat and pop a few bullets into a bunch of heads. She’d been little more than a hired gun for longer than she could remember and he’d become a symbol of peace and safety among an entire airship of soldiers. She couldn’t wrap her head around the great Arthur Maxson, but damn it all if she didn’t respect the hell out of someone that could command respect like that. Not only that, but she’d seen the lighter side of him. He wasn’t as harsh as he liked to front, though she appreciated that he had the same respect for the workplace that she did.

“Six bottles of beer on the wall, six bottles of beer,” she mumbled, taking the last swig from the bottle and tossing it over the edge of the deck, “take one down, pass it around, five bottles of beer on the wall.”

“Can I have one of those?”

After two-hundred years of never dropping her guard and never being entirely at ease, the one person in the Commonwealth that you didn’t want to sneak up on was her. Sera was a little too quick. Even now, so used to being around others, she was still glued to her distrust and her most immediate of responses had always been to draw her gun without question. She hadn’t even taken a moment to consider the company she was to keep as she pointed the weapon at the immediate danger that her mind registered. Haylen found herself staring down the barrel of a laser rifle, face pale as a ghost and eyes big as saucers. Sera, however, was scowling. Slowly, both relaxed and sighed in unison, the rifle falling back to the side before Sera waved Haylen over to join her.

“Sorry… you took me by surprise. I should relax more. Or maybe you should do better with watching your back,” she mumbled coarsely. “You’ve had a longer day than I have, huh, Kid?”

As she spoke, she popped the top off of a bottle and passed it to her new companion, who took it almost as quickly as Sera had pulled her gun. Haylen nodded and took a swig from the bottle. Sera could see the pain in her eyes; she’d been crying all day and there was no doubt that even now she was fighting a new wave of tears. A second cap snapped off of Sera’s newly prepared bottle with a satisfying ‘hiss’ of air. Sera took a steady swig from her bottle and scooted against Haylen’s side to gently pat her back. She wasn’t talented at comforting people, but she was doing her best. Even if her best was terrible.

“I’m sorry about that stuff today… Nora should have known better.”

Haylen mimicked Sera’s position, throwing her legs over the edge of the deck. With one hand, she reached up and pulled off her cap and hood, revealing an unkempt mess of choppy-cut strawberry blonde hair that that had been pulled into a bun so tight that Sera was sure her forehead was an inch higher than natural. “It’s… it’s all so messed up. Danse was a good man. He was so good to so many people. If it weren’t for him, Nora wouldn’t even BE here. And yet… she did it anyways.” She shook her head and took another drink. “He deserved the world and she gave him a bullet. I understand Maxson giving that order, but Nora filling it? God… I didn’t believe she’d do it.”

Sera sighed as she tapped the side of the bottle against the railing. “I think something in her changed when she took her trip to the big house of the boogeyman. Something in her mind snapped and she just… went frigid. That might be it. She may have been thawed out of that Vault freezer but her heart and mind are still solid ice.”

Haylen nodded. “You’re probably right. She was more… friendly when we first met. But then she went to the Institute and she changed. I guess that happens in the Commonwealth though.”

With a shake of her head, Sera trailed her fingers through thick waves of blood red hair, pushing it back out of her face so that it’s length fell over her back. The mess of thick crimson was almost three feet long; it needed a cut. The thought brought her pause. She glanced at Haylen and grinned. “Oi, I have an idea. How about you let me toy around with that mess of hair, yeah? Help you take your mind off of things.”

Haylen stared incredulously at her and absently reached up to touch her hair, gripping her beer a bit tighter. “My… hair. Right. Forgot about that. I’m so used to wearing the hat and cap… okay. Yeah.” She cleared her throat, shifting to the right so that Sera had access to the bun. “So, hey… I never bothered to ask before… how did you and Danse even meet?”

“Honey, that’s a long story.”

* * *

 

She remembered it like it had only just happened. She’d been in the company of a group of raiders at the time. While she could easily have killed them, Sera opted instead to take a deal that had been… rather strange, truthfully. Perhaps not pre-war, but in the wastes left behind by the war, the way that raiders handled their agreement had been unusual at best. The premise was this: a dancing girl for hire. No sex or sexual advances involved. Just dancing. Put on a show for the boss and his boys and anybody else that happened to come through the theater. Sera had never been the type to dance like a floozy for ruffians, but she’d been in the hole for caps for over a month, and while she could have easily killed the raiders and taken all of the money they had, there was more in it if she let them keep the caps flowing.

Her subsequent decision was to take the deal. They locked her in a cage in the back of a theater that they’d taken as their own and played whatever radio station came in clearest. The place was more of a gentleman’s club than anything; they had a bar and several other girls dancing in the corners. But Sera was the grand prize. She had a generous build; broad hips and a slim waist. Comfortably sized breasts, not to large and not too small. Not to mention the exotic nature of her appearance in general. Sera brought in more caps than raiding ever did. She had center stage at all times, gripping the bars of her cage while she swayed her hips to the smooth tune of the music. She was always careful not to show too much skin through the slip that ran up the leg of her dress; the light caught the glitter of the red fabric enough to reveal the silhouette of her figure.

Sera soon found that men paid more if they thought they would get a private show. Of course, they always got suckered out of their caps and forced to leave if they tried to coax her to strip, but she enjoyed the tease. She enjoyed the money too. But it quickly became apparent that she wouldn’t be released any time soon and it was likely that they had no plans of relinquishing her cut to her. She tried sweet-talking the guard for keys and it usually worked, but she always ended up back in the cage.

But everything changed the day the Brotherhood of Steel arrived. Back in those days, Maxson and his troop were still foot soldiers. He was just a regular soldier, but he still commanded just as much respect from his men as he had to date. His eyes were the first thing she saw when the doors to the theater swelled and burst open under the weight of heavily armored feet. Sera froze in place, gripping the bars of her cage as she stared beyond her personal prison to meet steely grey eyes. The most immediate feature she noticed about him was a patch that covered his cheek, blood-stained and ragged. He was mostly shaven, likely to treat the wound, but stubble prickled across his jawline, presenting recovery from whatever had harmed him.

Her gaze locked onto his and she motioned to the lock on the cage. ‘Let me out of here’, she mouthed. She didn’t even bother feigning fear or like she was in danger; she knew her situation and she refused to deny it. Everyone did horrible things in the Commonwealth and even someone like her wasn’t immune to it. However, she was slow to approach. For a long moment, she believed that she would have to use her dancing to, at the very least, get him to open the cage. From there she decided that she could just run and never look back. Fuck the caps and fuck the raiders. They were being shot down one after another.

“Who are you?”

“We are the Brotherhood of Steel,” he said, his voice low and demanding of recognition. “Do you count among the ranks of this scum?”

Sera ignored his question and knelt down so that she was eye-level with him. He visibly tensed before her, eyes steeled in determination that was slightly marred by a certain kind of weakness that she brought to him. She could see it in his expression.

“I mean you. Not your soldiers. I didn’t ask about your organization,” she said softly, gripping the bars of her cage a bit tighter. One hand slipped out to offer him a respectful shake, a custom that she wasn’t sure still survived after the war. “My name is Sera Carter.”

Distrust burned in his eyes, but he reached up and gripped her hand. It was obvious that he didn’t understand the gesture, but Sera gently squeezed his hand in her own and shook anyways. “Arthur Maxson. Are you a prisoner here?”

She lied. “Yes.”

Thankfully, he opened the cage without any further questions. She leapt free with grace so far unheard of in the post-apocalyptic hell that resembled the world. She grunted softly when she landed, causing Maxson to pause. When she’d jumped, her dress caught on one of the spikes on the outside of the cage with a rip. Quickly and quietly, he turned his back and shielded her from sight while she pulled away the fabric of the dress and discarded it to the side to trade it for a set of road leathers that she relieved from the corpse of a dead raider. She took up arms in the form of a broken but functioning laser rifle and stood at Maxson’s side, offering a small smile and whispered words of gratitude. She could have sworn that she saw his expression soften considerably and his cheeks turn a shade darker, but she found that he would never let himself slip so easily again.

The other girls were released as well, free to go where they wanted and do what they wanted. But not Sera. She left for a long while, but somewhere along the line, she couldn’t help herself and found that she inevitably returned to them. Something possessed her to return when she thought of Maxson telling her about the Commonwealth and their journey. He told her about their group and their mission, the Prydwen and its glory, though it was still under construction. While she figured that she could use the Brotherhood to help herself, she also found herself strangely pulled to both their goals and him, their fearless leader. She found that she fell in love with the Brotherhood and the world that they’d created with it. She was so proud of herself and of them. She was proud of Maxson.

Eventually, Danse came into the picture. He arrived as an empty, broken man. But just like her, Maxson charmed the magic of the Brotherhood of Steel into his heart and just like that, Danse was a dedicated soldier. He eventually became Paladin Danse, standing at equal rank beside her. They often went on missions together until Danse was ordered to travel the Commonwealth with a Knight and a Scribe, as well as two other field agents. She didn’t see much of Danse after that. Not until he returned with a stranger that he planned to sponsor into the Brotherhood. She saw Haylen only occasionally, and that didn’t happen until they finally secured the Cambridge Police Station.

And then, Paladin Danse was no more.

* * *

  
Once Haylen’s hair had been cut clean and trimmed proper, Sera gave her a hug that was long overdue. “Listen… I’m out on patrol tomorrow. I think it would be best if you went out too. I don’t take people with me, but I know that Brandis is back out in the field nowadays and I’m sure he’d be happy to accompany you. We could both use the change of pace.”

Haylen agreed softly and dismissed herself from Sera’s presence for the night. The assassin sighed as she stood, stretching her stiff muscles. She’d been sitting for far too long. Such minor details of life were starting to fade from memory as she’d become more active in duty. Some even thought it was strange that Sera refused a suit of power armor, but in her mind, it hindered mobility. Mobility that quickly faded when she sat for far too long on the edge of a balcony.

Sera had conjured up several thoughts over the past few hours of listening to Haylen rambling on and on about Danse. Haylen’s status as a lightweight made her tongue looser than a bedsheet and she certainly did pile on the information. Listening Post Bravo was meant to be the safe haven that the squad had selected had they lost the station. Sera didn’t know what it was that so strongly drew her to the idea of it, but she wanted to investigate. That thought in mind, she marched back into the Prydwen with her head held high, all intentions on approaching Maxson with her idea.

Swift were the steps of the Brotherhood Paladin as she moved with urgency to the lower decks. Several scribes found themselves jumping out of her way, lest they risk the wrath of the ‘red devil’, a nickname that she had earned – not proudly. Her determination seemed to act as her own personal shovel, because people that stood in her way parted like the red sea. Once she reached the lower decks, she found that Maxson didn’t preside over the window as he normally did. back to the upper deck she went in full stride without a single step wasted. She paused only once to take a box of Fancy Lad Snack Cakes from the cafeteria and throw away her beer bottle.

“Elder, I’d like to make a change in my patrol for tomorrow,” she practically shouted, saluting her superior as soon as she barged into his office completely unannounced and uninvited. Had she not been gripping a box of cakes, smelling of beer, and scowling like an angry badger, Maxson likely would have thrown her out right then and there. However, he didn’t do so. He simply set down the report he held in his hand to stare at her in confused disappointment. “I want to scout out Listening Post Bravo to search for any intel that ex-Paladin Danse may have left behind. The possibility that he may have had ties to the Institute is too important for me to just leave it be.”

“Paladin, the recon team has already gone in and performed a thorough sweep,” Maxson replied idly as his gaze dropped back down to the report he’d previously been examining, “There’s no reason to go back there. You’ll only stir up dust.”

“That wasn’t a request. It was a demand.”

That certainly got Maxson’s attention. His head shot up and he glared at her, slowly standing from his seated position. Sera had forgotten that at his height of 6’5”, he stood over a foot taller than she was, dwarfing her in most respects. He was twice his size around the waist, which meant that he didn’t even have to fight her to beat her, he just had to catch her in a bear hug and she was toast. But like the tiny ball of fury she was, she glared back and stood her ground, chest puffed out with her free hand balled into a fist. Had she been anyone else, he would have slapped her with a suspension for insubordination.

“I demand that you allow me to go to LPB.”

“Is that the way you address a superior officer, Paladin?” Maxson’s tone was getting deeper and more demanding of explanation. Then again, he was always demanding and his gaze remained angry and sharp like a serrated blade.

Sera wasn’t to be intimidated by his size or stature. She was too set in her ways to let something so trivial as one man stand in the way of what she wanted. While she could easily have superseded his command by simply leaving, she didn’t need the Brotherhood of Steel pursuing her following the war with the Institute as a ‘traitor’. She didn’t have time to go up against an entire army alone. “It is when I want something that I think is more important than my status, Elder,” she hissed, venom laced into the silk of her words.

Maxson’s eyebrow rose as he gazed down at her, hands tucked neatly behind his back like they always were. “…fine. If it’s that important to you, I’ll let it go this once. But hear me when I tell you that I do NOT want to have this conversation with you again, Paladin.”

Sera wasn’t usually one for insubordination. She was a very independent woman in most respects, but she had respect for the chain of command. She knew that demanding something of Maxson was pushing some buttons that she didn’t even have the rights to touch. However, she needed this more than she felt he understood. The relief that washed over her having received permission was immense and immediate. She nodded only once as her stance relaxed and the resistance in her posture faded. She hadn’t fallen back into the realm of obedience quite yet, but Maxson was assured that he’d have no trouble from her. “Thank you, Elder.”

“Explain to me, Paladin, why this is so important to you,” Maxson said passively while retaking his seat at his desk.

Sera grimaced. She truly didn’t want to go into details about her suspicions or what her intentions were. However, she felt it would be more easy on the man if she were to divulge at least a small portion of her logic for the sake of peace of mind. “Sir, I believe that there could be more than meets the eye to this situation. The chance that Danse was a spy would mean that the Institute knows exactly what our plans are. Or worse. There’s a chance that the Paladin wasn’t a synth in the beginning at all, but the monster that was hidden in our ranks was just a copy. It HAS happened before among citizens of the Commonwealth, and as much as Danse was in the field, it’s possible that he was surrendered to the same fate. If such is the case, I wish to give our finest soldier the proper burial he deserves… once his original body is recovered.”

A deep scowl had settled into both of their features, each mirrored in the others’ eyes. Sera was bound and determined to have her way. Maxson was the same. However, he had respected Danse just as much as any other on the ship had. “Very well, Paladin. But be warned… if he didn’t start this life as a synth, nothing will change. He won’t be forgiven and his existence will be stricken from the records. Is that clear?”

“Of course, Elder,” she said with a curt nod, “I wouldn’t expect any less.”


	2. Ad Victoriam, Paladin Danse

Every interaction that Sera had with Maxson always left a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. She respected him, but she was in some ways unsure of him and she certainly didn’t know for sure if she could trust him. Perhaps that wasn’t even it to begin with. But she couldn’t deny that she was somewhat uncomfortable after this particular talk. As much as she wanted to accept the way the Brotherhood handled the synth situation in the Commonwealth, she was also concerned about Maxson’s hatred towards them. It was understandable that he hated them; they were only photographs of what humanity was. But she was still worried. It seemed like he had more to say about the situation than he was letting on. While she refused to be the hypocrite of the hour, she couldn’t help but acknowledge the fact that his silence was unnerving to a certain degree. Maybe. It didn’t seem to her like anyone would willingly throw away one of their best soldiers, let alone their most dedicated Paladin. She knew what she’d find at Listening Post Bravo, but she still wanted to know more.

“Don’t be mad at Maxson,” she mumbled to herself several times. She knew it wasn’t his fault. He was likely just as torn up about losing someone like Danse as everyone else was. But it was certain that his hatred of synths and the Institute inevitably overshadowed his bonds with the soldiers. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what he’d think about her when she finally worked up the nerve to reveal that she was an FEV experimentation survivor and success.

Sera was generally good at reading people, but Maxson was something else. She knew he was an angry, ice-cold man, but deeper than that was something more… forbidden to acknowledge and closed to debate. But it was very clear that he wasn’t the absolute strangest anomaly that the Commonwealth had chewed up and spat out.

For example, after further examination of Nora, Sera was entirely certain that Maxson wasn’t the most disagreeable person in the Commonwealth. Nora had topped the list once Kellogg had been killed. Sera saw right through her. She saw the cold and the evil. She felt the frigid demeanor strengthen when she was around Brotherhood soldiers. Something in Nora had changed; she couldn’t quite put her finger on what exactly it was, but whatever she’d found in the Institute when she’d used the relay had altered a great deal of things. As someone who’d lived in suspicion of everyone around her for the greater deal of her life, Sera was sure that she was the only one who noticed the small changes in Nora’s personality. Even her interactions with Brotherhood operatives had been different than before. Something was wrong and Sera was unsure of what it was. Something was in the Institute that Nora wasn’t divulging to her peers or her superiors. The report said that she’d entered an almost empty lab space and killed off a few synths for the information she needed, but she never said anything about how she got back out of the Institute or the scientists within. She didn’t give the juicy details that everyone was expecting and Sera was sure in every way that Nora had something to hide.

Luckily for her, Haylen had been kind enough to give both herself and Brandis a ride into the Commonwealth. All three were fairly quiet during the ride aside from Brandis shifting in his seat or Sera checking her rifle over more than once to make sure that it was in perfect working condition. Hot summer air scorched her skin, forcing her to squint every time it blew directly into her face. It was unusually toasty out with temperatures that likely jumped up into the nineties. While it wasn’t her right to complain about the weather, Sera was very close to it. Brandis seemed like he was having a swell time observing the Commonwealth from above; he was in much better health since returning to his brothers and finding closure in the ceremonious melting of holotags into a bullet. They’d made a necklace for him out of the bullet they’d created and never once had Sera seen him remove it.

“So, Paladin Carter, what’s on the list of things to do today?” Brandis was looking at her, his expression twisted into a partial grin.

“I’m on a sweep and retrieve today. Perhaps a feral raid in Cambridge afterwards if the weather suits it. I heard the boys down there got a bit lazy and let the ferals have their way with the ruins,” Sera replied with a grin. Her mood was sour, but she had to admit that putting in work had a way of making her feel better about how things had fallen into place as of late. “And yourself?”

“Since Haylen is joining me today, we’re on item retrieval. Anything we can use, it’s my job to carry while she documents it and does whatever tinkerin’ she wants to do.”

It had escaped her attention that Brandis had put on a suit of power armor. Somehow, somewhere, she’d lost her attentiveness as soon as she’d set foot on the vertibird heading out into the Commonwealth. Likely a side effect of thinking about things so incredibly much. “Seems exciting. You’re going to have lots of fun in this weather,” she said with a chuckle, adjusting the settings on her laser rifle with lazy fingers. “It’s gonna be a real hot one today. It isn’t even noon yet and I already feel like I’m swimming in my own sweat.”

Haylen let a small giggle escape, but her eyes were fixed on the vertibird controls. “I think I’m gonna set us all down on top of the police station. That would be the best option since we’re all going to need to get some supplies and take a moment to adjust to the heat.”

Sera nodded once before settling in to enjoy the rest of the ride. Even SHE had to admit that she was almost dangerously curious about the goings on of the day. There was a lot on her mind already without the thought that she’d have to go feral hunting. It was a fun thing to do, but she wasn’t in the mood to run around in such heat. It wasn’t her cup of tea to get a heat stroke. She had to admit though; the Commonwealth looked beautiful. Light kissed every building and dead tree, illuminating the tiniest bits of green that dared show themselves among the dead plants. It seemed that nature itself was trying to revive from the horrors of the war. She appreciated the calm that the thought brought over her. Sometimes you just need something new in your life, and Sera was entirely certain that some change wouldn’t be too bad.

When the vertibird touched down with a thunderous clamor, the redhead was the first one off. Rifle gripped in hand, she darted into the safety of the police station. Several of the armored soldiers stationed at Cambridge had been friends of her when she first started running patrols for the Brotherhood; they’d bonded like family in the outpost. She offered curt nods to those who acknowledged her as she made her way back towards the small holding cells where she kept a spare locker of clothing reserved for missions.

Without wasting a second, she donned a leather bodysuit and strapped a dagger to her thigh. For extra measure, she belted on twin 10mm. pistols and looped a small pack into her belt for ammunition and caps. And to be safe (or so she reasoned with herself), she also stuffed a box of Fancy Lad Snack Cakes into the pack with her ammunition. Sera wasn’t sure at any time that she actually NEEDED all of these things on her person, but it was entirely certain that she felt safer with it than she did without.

“Paladin Carter,” one of the knights said as she returned to the lobby, “we have some insight about the area that you may find useful. Elder Maxson has demanded that the area be swept to the fullest extent since you were so… demanding. He asked that we give you as much information as we could. The area that you’ll be searching has an abundance of vicious mongrels this time of year, as well as bloatflies and stingwings. We advise that you take power armor and extra ammunition.”

Sera snorted softly, but nodded to the knight. “I’ll take the ammo, but I don’t think I’ll need the power armor. I’m quick on my feet and a good enough shot; I’ll be perfectly fine.”

The knight wasn’t about to protest, but she could see in the way he shifted that he didn’t wish to leave her without some kind of safety net should things go sideways. “Perhaps you’d permit me to accompany you then? Peace of mind, ma’am. Maxson tells us that you’re in line for a pretty fancy getup of a promotion should you succeed in finding any extra information about the Institute. He said that you must be kept safe in the event that we do recover intel.”

A frown settled into her features. Maxson never told her anything about a promotion, or even any kind of reward for recovering information. She shook her head and looked up at the knight before her. “I’ll go alone. Just… look. Whatever you heard or whatever you think you know is wrong. Don’t worry about me or Maxson, just stick with your post.” It seemed almost as though this knight was chasing after her rank as Paladin; he wanted a promotion just as much as he thought she would get one. “I’ll put in a good word for you if I find anything. Tell them that you volunteered to help out.”

The knight saluted faster than she thought she’d ever seen a man move. “That would be wonderful, ma’am!”

A slow sigh left the assassin as she pushed past him towards the door. She stopped in the doorway for a brief moment to salute her fellow soldiers and call out ‘ad victoriam’ once before leaving the building behind to escape into the comforts of the Commonwealth’s outdoors.

* * *

 

“Nothing,” she spat softly, sifting through the rubble inside of the post. Her hands were growing sore from being cut on broken glass; she’d been careless as she rifled through the garbage that she was searching through. She’d only found a few things left behind from Danse; a rifle, his holotags, a bag of caps that she kept for herself with the thought in mind that even friends weren’t safe from the scourge of the Commonwealth… and then himself. The Brotherhood of Steel hadn’t even had the courtesy to burn or burry his body; they simply left it lying on the ground, covered so that no eyes could prey upon the beast that had lived so long among humans in disguise.

She approached him slowly, forcing herself to remain stoic and professional. She knew her duty to the Brotherhood, even if she didn’t like it. Danse was the enemy whether he knew it or not, and once he was dead, everyone had to accept that fact. She wasn’t a firm believer in crying over spilled milk or sobbing over a dead comrade. Sera sighed softly when she shifted the tarp that had been lain over his corpse. He seemed so peaceful, even in death. He gave everything for the Brotherhood and there wasn’t a single doubt in her mind that he’d been the best of the best. “I don’t wanna do this,” she mumbled, wrenching one of the knives from her belt, “but buddy… I need the stuff in your head. This is the only way I can get it.”

With surgical precision, she cut open a section of his skin beneath his jaw and peeled away what she immediately found to be artificial flesh. The skin on the surface looked and felt incredibly real, but what she found directly beneath wasn’t proper dermal flesh, it was a silicone-like substance that felt just right to the touch to be believably human. A sour taste rose in her mouth, but she forcibly ignored it as she pulled away more ‘skin’. She was careful to cut away just enough that she could carefully remove the jaw of the deceased synth. What she needed was the chip inside of his head. His memories. Once she found access to it beneath all that extra skin that they’d been so careful to place within his mouth, she quickly reached within to pull the chip out.

“I’m sorry about all of this,” she mumbled softly as she sheathed her knife. Slowly, she worked his jaw back into place and did her best to replace the bit of faux skin that she’d pulled away before pressing a soft kiss on his forehead and replaced the tarp. Toughness kept her from shedding a tear and the stoic support of the Brotherhood kept her from feeling any pain. She knew that Danse was in a better place and that he’d served his comrades well. Even in his final hour, everything was for them. She had to respect such feats with loyal perseverance. “Ad Victoriam, Paladin.”

She stood, looking over the remainder of the items in the small space. Her gaze settled on a laser rifle that rested on a desk near the back. It was a broken thing that didn’t seem like it would work too terribly well, but she recognized it immediately. Righteous Authority, Danse’s most trusted weapon. He’d given it to Nora after she’d helped find a deep range transmitter for his team, but it seemed as though she’d left it behind after killing the Paladin. Sera couldn’t in good conscious leave the weapon behind. She slung her own rifle more comfortably over her shoulder and took the weapon from the desk, then proceeded towards the elevator with the chip – and the rifle – in hand.

Outside, the heat was sweltering. If anything, the weather had taken a turn for the worse. The light of the sun was almost unbearable; even the violent animals wouldn’t leave the comfort of the shade to attack Sera. She’d seen this kind of weather before in the Mojave before she’d traveled to the Commonwealth. It was ridiculously hot; the only difference was that she’d been accustomed to animals that were used to such heat. She trod through the vast emptiness of dry grass and dead trees, hand held up to her face to act as a visor as she moved forward. She could see mirages on the skyline, beckoning her to approach even when she knew nothing was there. But Sera knew much better than to believe the fanciful offerings of the heat; she tossed a vertibird signal grenade on the landing pad in hopes that she’d be found quickly.

The information stored on the chip was incredibly important to her. Sera seemed to grip it a bit tighter with each passing second, though she knew she had to take special care not to break it. His whole life was on that chip. His memories, his aspirations, his dreams and his honor. She had his world in her hands. Haylen would want to have it once Sera pried out the information she needed. Rhys might have, had he not been as dedicated a soldier as Danse was.

“I’ll need to finesse some tech from Quinlan to get to the information on the chip,” she mused idly. In the distance, she could hear the sounds of vertibird wings slicing through the air; they would arrive sooner than she’d anticipated. Perhaps she’d just improved her hearing over the years. One of the few perks of being a lab rat for Vault Tec was that they knew exactly what she needed to be a ‘perfect soldier’. Enhanced senses were one of them. For the most part, their efforts had been in vain. But when they’d uncovered the secrets to higher functioning, Sera had been the first on the list to get the fancy new upgrades. As far as she knew, the vertibird could have been a mile away or ten. Hopefully the latter wasn’t the case. She was ready to get back to the Prydwen. Her gaze traveled to the skies, hunting down the vertibird with scrutiny. She could see it in the distance as it crawled closer and closer to her across the skyline. She could see the heatwaves surrounding the great metal beast, even the pilot in the seat past the great orbed windows.

With speed that was almost painfully slow for Sera to watch, the vertibird came to a stop, hovering just above the ground. She claimed a seat in the corner by the door, careful not to enter the personal space of the soldier that was operating the minigun. Her mind wandered from thought to thought, always taking her back to the chip in her hand. Her fingers mindlessly stroked the bumps and ridges of the edge of the small piece of plastic. It was delicate and fragile and god she was so horrified about the things she could learn. But she was determined to sift through every single bit of information she could find.

“Something on your mind, Paladin?” a voice quipped from beside her, startling her to attention. She turned to stare straight into the face of Brandis, who’d removed his helmet to let a mess of stringy gray hair blow freely in the wind. “You look stressed out. Been twiddling with that little chip there for a while.”

“It’s just been a long day,” she said coolly, leaning back against the walls of the vertibird. “Very long.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“I went to Listening Post Bravo as ordered. Hunted through the trash and decay and just…” A heavy sigh betrayed her to her distress and the mourning that she had faced when she received the news of Danse’s demise. “I found a few things. Not enough to be excited about what was there, but enough that I may be able to piece together some missing links that I’ve noticed lately. Get a better understanding of what’s going on here.”

Brandis quirked a brow in disbelief. “You think there’s more to this?”

“I know for a fact that there is,” Sera replied sharply, slipping the chip into her pocket. “Everything is… weird. People have been acting different. I have every intention of acting on my suspicion for the good of the Brotherhood.”

_And for the safety of the whole Commonwealth, if such a thing exists anymore._

Brandis nodded slowly and allowed his gaze to travel to his feet. “Just be careful. Don’t forget that the Brotherhood isn’t all that your life is. You have to look out for yourself too. Don’t do anything crazy that could get you killed, Paladin.”

“I’ll try not to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there is an issue with this chapter in that the way Sera received the information doesn't align properly with the lore; essentially, the only part of a synth that's 'machinery' is the synth component. If you go into the Institute, you can watch a synth being created with real bones and nerves, muscles, skin, etc. However, I wrote this on the premise that a normal synth would have a chip similar to a courser's or even that Danse is an older model that still had more machinery in his body than newer synths. Hopefully this won't be too much of an issue, but rest assured that it won't come up again in later chapters.
> 
> Thank you for reading. ♥


	3. Memories of the Damned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Portions of the story that are in italics represent thoughts and/or memories that aren't otherwise labeled as thoughts. Thank you for reading. ♥

When she closed her eyes, she could still hear his voice. She could feel his presence. When Sera closed her eyes, she could see Danse in all his glory, looming over her like a guardian angel. She could see her life before the bombs fell; the beautiful green grass and the sounds of children playing outside down the street. She could feel the warmth of the sun on an October evening, offering the promise of a good winter. Sera remembered the feeling of snow under her feet, crunching softly when she stepped in a particularly clean and untouched pile. She remembered how everything could have been more, had the war not started.

She remembered the feeling of helplessness when she was the only one to emerge from her home. Every second of walking through ashes and broken bits of metal. Sera recalled finding the corpses of her neighbors and their children. Her first encounters with survivors had been ones of horror; their skin had been twisted and mutilated by the radiation. Ghouls, they called themselves. Eventually, she’d grown to call them friends. She remembered her first encounters with super mutants and the way that their horrible side effects had made them violent and brutish, barely able to register friend from foe. She remembered traversing through the wastes and digging through rubble for anything useful. Of the path that the last two hundred years she’d spent on her own, Sera had many memories. She remembered every second she spent traveling through the Mojave for a short time with a ghoul named Charon and the man who held his contract, a person known only as Courier Six. Finally, her mind traveled with her to the Capital Wasteland where she met the boys of Little Lamplight and their latest exile, Robert, the Lone Wanderer from Vault 111, and even Three Dog, an eccentric radio spokesman that had more charisma in his little finger than most had in their whole body.

Every single time Sera closed her eyes, memories of her life came back as though she’d opened the flood gates. Thousands of tiny details came pouring in, soaking into the already solidified story. The most prominent memory she had was when she encountered the Brotherhood for the first time. When she met Danse among his comrades and offered up her help with the simplest of missions. That help became a promise, and that promise became her future. A slow, heavy sigh left her. All those things had faded into distant memory. The only part of that past that she had left was MacCready, and even he was snarkier than she remembered him. The thought that she could take up firing shots at Gunners with him had crossed her mind more than a few times, and she knew better than anyone that she wasn’t against it in the slightest. But she had a duty to Danse to see her life through to the fullest with the Brotherhood in tow.

She’d spent more than seven and a half hours staring at the screen before her. The memories on Danse’s chip played out like a movie. He’d been a synth the whole time. But God, he’d spent that time well. She saw the friendships he’d made, the sorrows he felt. Every single moment he had lived had been a moment filled with pride and glory. She’d sifted through the trivial parts; the things she didn’t need to see. She skipped past most of his life, hunting for the time following Nora’s trip to the Institute. While Sera did everything in her power to resist the temptation to delve into his personal affairs, she still couldn’t help herself from time to time. She saw many personal interactions with friends and comrades. One with Nora when she asked him to hold her if she cried. The sight made Sera furious. It wasn’t her place to be angry about the way Nora had turned out, but she’d be damned if she was about to accept the fact that Nora asked romantic favors of a man that she’d later kill. It made the assassin sick to her stomach, but she knew that there was nothing she could do to change it.

Quinlan entered the room in silence, wordlessly offering Sera a cup of coffee. As much as she disliked the stuff, she accepted it with mumbled thanks. Proctor Quinlan had been a good man to Sera; he’d given her the items she needed to perform the tasks that she felt she was better suited to do, and in return, she found him technical documents and went on patrols for him. Their trade-offs had slowly grown into a comfortable friendship, though it was one shared in silence. For that reason alone, she wasn’t bothered in the slightest when he dragged a chair towards the desk and sat beside her, looking over the notes she’d written down about her findings.

“I hope you aren’t taking this too hard,” he said quietly. “We all know that he was your friend and that you cared greatly for his wellbeing. But some things just aren’t redeemable. Even those that are out of our control.”

Sera shook her head as she took a sip of the coffee. She noted that it was still piping hot, but she didn’t mind it too incredibly much. “It just… it amazes me that things like this escaped us all for so long. It almost feels wrong to be going through his head like this. Almost like I’m trespassing on private property.” As she spoke, she started fast-forwarding through another three months of memories, pausing only occasionally to take note of his actions and mannerisms. Even if he was a synth, he was, in a way, incredibly human. “He was a better man than most and he wasn’t even a man.”

“Perhaps,” Quinlan replied sharply, “but that doesn’t excuse the fact that he’s not what he seemed. We all have to do our parts to watch one another’s backs.”

“I know.”

Together they sat in a new-found silence while Sera fast forwarded through more. It took a total of fifteen minutes to find the moment that Nora had left and returned from the Institute. Sera wasn’t even sure if she was ready to watch more of Danse’s life play out on the screen. Taking notice of her hesitance, Quinlan gripped her arm gently and the two shared eye contact for only a moment. Whatever they were about to find was going to be the information that Sera hoped would give her some insight into the occurrences that she’d noticed as of late. She nodded and both of them immediately looked back to the computer screen.

_Nora was wearing a strange outfit when she approached Danse. It was all black, complete with a tight-fitting black leather coat that seemed to swallow the woman whole. She didn’t seem much more uptight than she’d been when she left, but he could tell that there was a lot on her mind. She gently took Danse’s hand, glancing around to ensure that no wandering eyes would watch when she tugged the Paladin away from his post with a hurriedness that had been unprecedented in her actions when the two had first met. She was silent until she found a quiet place in the safety of a crashed cargo plane off the coast beneath the Prydwen, eyes straining against the dark of night._

_“Danse, you’ll never believe what I found in there… it’s magnificent. What I’m about to tell you is in the strictest of confidence, okay?”_

_“As your friend, you have my word,” Danse replied, nodding his head._

Somehow, Sera knew he had been smiling.

_“Danse, nothing is what we thought it was down there. It’s… magnificent. There are so many beautiful things inside of there. They have trees! Real, living trees! And there are children. Children and scientists and synthetic gorillas and… Danse, I found Shaun. I found him. He’s alive. My son, my boy… he’s okay. Danse, we can’t tell the Brotherhood what I found. Not until I can get Shaun out safely. Please.” There was wonder in Nora’s eyes. Wonder and hope, something most wastelanders had lost a long time ago. She seemed incredibly energetic for a woman that had just been inside of the nest of the Commonwealth’s greatest threat and biggest boogeyman._

_“Nora, that’s crazy talk,” Danse said sternly, shaking his head. “Elder Maxson needs to know about this. You have to put it in your report. Perhaps you can appeal to him with all of the effort you’ve put in for our cause. But I cannot be the one to hide these things from him.”_

_Nora’s face fell into a panicked expression, eyes wide. “Danse, please! My son is in there. Maxson would kill him if he knew. I can’t let that happen!”_

_She was persistent. In Danse’s mind, it was painful to watch someone so close to him go through such an ordeal. He sighed heavily and rested a hand on Nora’s shoulder, offering little more than a squeeze. “Alright… until you find a way to get your son out of the Institute, I’ll keep this private. But I can’t betray the trust of my brothers in arms. You have to get him out as quickly as possible or I’ll be forced to take action against you.”_

Sera and Quinlan shared a long look, both grimacing. Sera knew that Nora was acting strange, but she never could have guessed that her ties to the Institute would have been as deep as blood. She assumed that the vault dweller had just been met kindly by the Institute because they planned on making her an ally. She was both right… and wrong. However, there had to be more to it than just this. Sera fast forwarded a bit further, watching as Danse’s true origins were exposed to him. Watching him run to Listening Post Bravo out of fear. She watched as he escaped from the hands of the Brotherhood, only to be hunted down. She watched as Nora approached him, guns blazing as she shot down the protectrons that stood in her way.

_“I’m not surprised Maxson sent you,” Danse had said solemnly, “he never liked to do the dirty work himself.”_

Sera found it hard to listen. Her heart was torn in two ways. She wanted to accept Danse was a synth and be done with the whole ordeal, but she also couldn’t help but acknowledge that he’d been the closest thing she’d had to family since the bombs fell. Her best friend. A brother in many ways.

_“Why does this even matter to you? You’re just here to carry out Maxson’s orders. Does he even want me alive?”_

_“This… isn’t as much for Maxson as it is for me,” Nora crooned softly, stroking the barrel of the laser rifle she held in her hands. “You remember Righteous Authority? The rifle you gave me. It’s a lovely thing. It reminds me of you every time I hold it. The bottom line is this.” Nora shifted several steps to the left, initiating a painfully slow pace. “You know things about the Institute that I don’t want to be spread around. On the other hand, Maxson gave me the go-ahead to kill you. For the Brotherhood, of course.”_

_Danse was silent and dumbfounded. Nora had changed drastically since he’d last seen her. The comforting joy in her demeanor was gone, replaced with spite and a twisted, evil grin. Her status in the Brotherhood had made her superiority complex bigger than he’d imagined and the journey to the Institute hadn’t been much better. She wasn’t herself anymore and she never would be again. The ragged look in her eyes told him that the Commonwealth had drained what little bit of humanity she had left from her._

_“Now… I have some business to attend to. My son is waiting for me. And so is the Brotherhood. Ad victoriam, Paladin Danse.”_

Sera couldn’t bring herself to watch when Nora raised the rifle and planted a bullet in between Danse’s ribs, puncturing his heart. Just like that, the screen went black. Tears welled in Sera’s eyes as she turned away from the screen and downed the rest of her coffee, one hand pressed to her forehead. It wasn’t right. Even if Danse was a synth, it just wasn’t right to do these things to him. A strangled sob forced its way out of her, but any signs of mourning ended there. She wiped the tears from her eyes and quickly wrote down the things that had been said in the final confrontation.

“This isn’t right, Quinlan. You and I both can tell that something’s up. I’m going to find out what,” she said quickly, jotting down the last few details that she’d noticed. “Put a copy of some of those memories on a holotape for Haylen. She’ll appreciate that. As for the chip, do with it what you will. I have a report to write.”

Before Quinlan had a chance to respond, Sera shoved her seat back stood. The scrape of metal on metal made both of them cringe. Within a matter of moments, Sera was flying out the door with her notes in hand, charging towards the quarters of her superior. Elder Maxson was many things, but a heavy sleeper wasn’t one of them. She arrived at his door in record time, brows knit in anger as she raised her hand to knock at the door. She didn’t get an immediate response, and that didn’t sit well with her. She wasn’t in the mood to wait for an invitation. Without any regard for his personal space, she threw the door open and invited herself in.

“Maxson, I have some new information that you may be interested in.”

* * *

It took Maxson a solid thirty minutes to fully wake up. Not only had Sera woken him in the middle of the night, she’d done so with merciless harshness that both pissed him off and made him regret her fearlessness. However, he couldn’t bring himself to be mad; she was his best Paladin and claimed to have new information about the Institute. So, he demanded only coffee in return for the unwelcome intrusion. While Sera was gone to retrieve the refreshment, he’d quickly traded his pajamas (a stained white t-shirt and shorts) for his uniform and battle coat. When she returned, she wasted no time diving into the details of her findings. However, she made a point to dance around the details of Nora’s strange behavior.

“I uncovered new information about the Institute, Elder. But I need your permission to dig deeper and follow this lead. So far, all we know is what little Paladin Hayes put into her report about the Institute, but I think I found more than what she’s told us. I need your permission to jump straight into the trenches. Please.”

Maxson cleared his throat, massaging the bridge of his nose with a low groan. It was four in the morning and already one of his paladins was drilling into his mind with drabble. However, seeing that Sera had never done such a thing as this in her entire service to the Brotherhood, he let it slide. “Do you mind telling me what exactly you think you found, Paladin?”

  
“A traitor in our midst. I was going to Paladin Danse’s memories via the data chip in his head. Luckily, it was still in-tact. We got the chance to look through what he’d seen… and I found something. But there’s no way that I can be absolutely certain without finding out on my own. Please, let me investigate this. I’m begging you.”

“Listen,” Maxson said harshly, “if you think that the Brotherhood is in danger, you need to be certain. I’ll allow this investigation ONLY under that premise. The fact that someone like you is concerned is rather discomforting. I know you aren’t the type to delve into these kinds of issues without proper cause.”

Sera nodded, leaning back in her seat. She hadn’t even realized how tired she’d been until she took a moment to relax. She hadn’t bothered sleeping since she’d found the chip; her work had been her priority. “Thank you, Elder. I apologize for waking you at such an hour.”

“Don’t apologize, Paladin. Just see to it that you recover results and do it quickly. If there is a traitor in the ranks of the Brotherhood, I want it taken care of quickly and quietly. Understood?” He paused. “And get some proper rest. It seems to me that you need it more than I do.”

“Of course, Elder. One last thing,” she said softly as she stood to dismiss herself from the room, “has Paladin Hayes returned yet? I’d like to speak with her.”

“I believe so. Last I saw, she was getting comfortable in her new quarters.”

“I see. Thank you, Elder Maxson,” she replied with a short nod, excusing herself from his presence with a quick salute. “Ad victoriam.”

“Ad victoriam.”

* * *

 

Her suspicion was growing by the second; she couldn’t stand the suspense that she was under. Sera knew better than anyone that being constantly suspicious of someone could be exhausting, but she was also painfully aware that Nora had something damning to hide from everyone. The thought made her pace quicken as she started to make her way to the Paladins’ quarters.

Once inside, she crept with silence towards Nora’s bunk. She noticed immediately that Nora hadn’t docked her power armor with Ingram like most others did; the armor stood vigilant in the corner. The second thing Sera noticed was that the belongings that Nora usually kept with her were nowhere to be found.

“Planning on going somewhere?” she whispered, inching her way around towards the bed. The soft glow of Nora’s Pip-Boy caught Sera’s eye quickly. Luckily, Nora wasn’t a fan of sleeping with the tool on, so taking it from her night stand and escaping from the room completely unnoticed wasn’t a chore. Outside, Sera sat against the door in silence as she toyed with the Pip-Boy. She found that Nora was rather… organized. She’d listed everything in her inventory, even taken notes down about various parts of the Commonwealth and kept close tabs on her health. But more than that… she kept her messages. Sera immediately started digging into them, reading through everything she’d found. Her eyes skimmed past hundreds of casual conversations, some from Danse and others from people she’d never heard of. There were some, however, that she did recognize. Nick Valentine the detective, Piper Wright, the reporter from Diamond City, Mayor Hancock from Goodneighbor…

She froze solid when her eyes found a very… familiar name. ‘Shaun’. The word “Father” had been edited into his name, giving Sera pause. The term ‘Father’ had been quite familiar indeed. The information gathered that covered the Institute had labeled Father as the director of operations. “Bingo,” she whispered. Sera opened the message almost immediately, reading through the text.

_“Mother, I understand that you’re busy with your concerns on the surface, but as you know, there are issues here that need your immediate attention. We need your assistance with the reactor and have matters to discuss regarding your future position as my predecessor. Please return as soon as you can._   
_\- Shaun”_

Silence. Painful, ringing silence. Sera sat in awe of what she’d just read. It was true. Nora was a traitor to the Brotherhood. She knew she had to warn Maxson immediately. Just as she was about to stand, a painfully familiar voice greeted her.

“Having fun?”

Sera could hear it before she could react. The sound of something swinging through the air. Then just like that, darkness.

 


	4. The Old and the Angry

Everything around her was white. White walls, white floor, white ceiling. Even the new jumpsuit that she was forced to wear. A gray stripe stretched across her chest with the word “Institute” printed in dark lettering. She’d been locked in a plexiglass box for God only knew how long, staring at the only colored part of the room: a door with yellow stripes that opened only when a synth arrived with a tray containing a tube of grey sludge that they regarded as 'food', a filled syringe, and a change of clothing. Occasionally the same synth would escort her to the restroom to bathe and do her business, but other than that, she hadn’t left the cell. She didn’t even have it in her to fight back. Whatever strength she had left her less than ten minutes after she woke when a very humanoid synth injected her with an unknown substance from the aforementioned syringe. Her head pounded from the wound on the back of her head, but a strip of gauze had been neatly tied around her cranium. Apparently, she’d earned an open head wound from her encounter with her ‘friend’. On several occasions, she’d even become sick, but all she had been able to heave up from her stomach was a mess of sour bile.

The food they gave her tasted like melted cardboard. The drink was simply purified water. They fed her at regular intervals; there wasn’t a three-meal regimen and a usual sleep pattern that they had adjusted for her. The Institute was blatantly denying her any indication of time or even how MUCH time had elapsed. For all she knew, she’d been in that cell for several weeks. She couldn’t bring herself to reject the nourishment. Sera simply accepted it like a puppet. She was too exhausted to fight and too weak to try. Whatever they’d given her was some strong stuff and there was a new dose of it every time they brought her food. But her mind was still working at full capacity.

Sera knew better than to trust Nora. She knew that something was up and she was right. Her only lingering fear was that she was the only one that would ever know. She was scared of what the future would bring to her, what horrible experiments the Institute would bring down on her with its fury. She was afraid of what would happen if she couldn’t get back to the Brotherhood to tell Maxson what had happened and what she’d learned. She was unsure of the time that had passed; for all she knew, the Institute had already made its move against the Brotherhood and there was all-out war raging on the Commonwealth. She had no way of knowing what was happening or who was involved. All she knew was that Nora Hayes was a traitor to the Brotherhood of Steel and that she was trapped in a glass box being force-fed grey sludge from a tube.

She couldn’t judge the passing of time. The lights never went off, there was no clock on the wall… there was just the door and the synth. The synth was a gen-3; it had every capability of any human. But what she gathered from mere observation was that the synth was given very strict orders. For the most part, he was a well-trained dog for the Institute and followed his directions extremely well. He never made eye contact, never spoke, and most importantly, never showed any kind of empathy. He had darker colored skin; they’d designed him to be an African American. His eyes were shielded with sunglasses, a confusing trait for any synth. She wasn’t aware that they bothered with accessories. He wore the same black uniform that Nora wore when she first returned from the Institute. For the most part, her view of him was biased towards believing him to be a monstrosity, but she noted a glance or two ever so often. Sometimes these looks would be defiant in nature and the thought made Sera snicker. As stoic of a man as this synth tried his best to front to be, she could see right through him and register the curiosity in his lingering gaze. Sera was certainly something of an anomaly; she had colors to her that were completely alien and genetically incorrect. Blood-red hair and eyes with diamond-white irises, for example. It was somewhat fun to watch this machine – this creature – examining her with such confused curiosity. His masters didn’t give him as much information as he assumed he had and she was reveling in it. Her superiority complex certainly was kicking in, that was entirely certain.

The doors parted; speak of the devil. Her ‘guardian’ entered the room with the usual tray. Just as she expected, it was outfitted with a single plastic cup of water and a slick pool of grey sludge. She grimaced when he opened the door to the small glass box that she lived in and slid the trey inside.

“Oi,” she said rather loudly, drawing his attention. He quickly diverted his gaze, which drew a chuckle from his prisoner. “I know you probably have some super fun and exciting rules to follow regarding me, but I’d greatly appreciate the time of day and possibly a date? I’ve been in here for a good while and quite frankly it’s somewhat unnerving. I feel as though I may have failed to arrive to tea on time.”

“I’m not at liberty to divulge such information to you at this time, Paladin Carter,” he replied simply as he closed the door. “If one might convince you to be inclined to tell us what you can about the Brotherhood of Steel, I will inform Father.”

Sera paused for a long moment. He stood in the doorway awaiting her response, arms resting at his sides. She couldn’t help but notice, however, that his right hand was slightly elevated. Closer to his gun, she noted. Right handed. “You aren’t giving me very much wiggle room. Guess I don’t have much choice, do I?”

“No, you don’t. I will return momentarily.”

* * *

Nora’s son was much… older than Sera expected. She had pictured a young boy or at the very least a man in his twenties. Not a sixty-year-old oaf with a scrunched beard and the ‘innocent old man’ look going on. She examined him a total of three times: first when he entered the room, second when he began to speak, then third when he stopped to await a response. The first thing she noted was his appearance. He wasn’t young by any means; he smelled of soap and freshly cooked vegetables. Not only that, but he was taller than Nora. Likely by a few inches at the very least. The second thing she noted was his mannerisms. He spoke with forced charisma and he let his age show. It was clear that there was a monster hiding within him that he was forcing to keep at bay; after all, he had to look like his mother’s sweet angel of a son and had to represent the entirety of the Institute without making them all look like pompous windbags. She noticed that he fidgeted when he brought his mother up and he tensed every single time she moved. The third thing she noted was that he expected full cooperation, no matter what his approach happened to be. He was ‘in charge’ and she was going to obey. He was a narcissistic little shit just like his mother. Sera had to give Nora kudos; she created a perfect little minion when she popped out this monster of a man.

Sera had taken a much different approach to their first encounter. She had sat on the floor with her legs curled beneath the seat of her rump, eyes narrowed to slits while she examined the man before her. Both hands rested on the glass to support her while she looked when she felt the need to lean in closer. She was hunched over slightly, forehead only inches from the glass as she stared at him past stringy strands of crimson hair. He was just beyond her reach, but she swore she could feel the tension in his muscles tighten to readiness every time she moved within her cell. Icy eyes followed his every move, monitoring the actions he took and memorizing each and every motion. Even the slightest twitch in his eyebrows didn’t escape her. She liked displaying her observant nature, even within the confines of a cell. He was afraid of her and she knew it. She knew it, felt it, smelled it, and reveled in it. Beneath her gaze, he squirmed somewhat in his seat, clearing his throat on occasion to relieve the tension of silence. It was somewhat funny to see someone so uncomfortable in their own skin.

“You smell like fear, doctor,” she mused idly, her words venomous in nature. He cringed; her voice didn’t have its natural silken feel to it. It was rough, almost as though she’d scrubbed her vocal chords with sandpaper. “And eggs. Nasty things, those.”

“I’m here to ask kindly for your help. We know that you have intelligence regarding the Brotherhood of Steel and their assets.”

“Oh, you mean like your mother? My dear, she can help you just as much as I can. Didn’t she tell you that she’s a Brotherhood solider? A Paladin, to be exact. Or did that slip under your radar?”

Father sighed, gripping the edge of his clipboard. He was an impatient man. “I know full well that my mother was operating within the ranks of the Brotherhood of Steel. However, since she removed you from the airship, she’s been made aware that she was seen and reported to your Elder Maxson. Her title has been stripped. And from what I gather, you’ve been with the Brotherhood for much longer than Mother was.”

A snicker rose from the woman and she shook her head, eyes falling closed while she sucked in a deep breath of stuffy warm air. “Let me get this straight. Nora knocked me out and dragged me here, you all drugged me and feed me mud on a plate, neglect me to the point that I’m coughing up my own stomach acid, won’t even give me the time of day, you keep shooting me full of… whatever the hell is in that shot, and yet you still expect me to be in any way helpful to you? Why would I ever want to help someone like you? In what world would I ever offer my help to the Institute? You and your groupies stand for everything that the Brotherhood of Steel opposes. I’m not one for being a fanatic or following protocol, but I respect my brothers in arms and I respect that I owe a service to the Brotherhood. I don’t, however, owe you the same kindness.”

Father paused for a long moment, staring her in distaste. “If you do not wish to offer your aid, I’ll be certain to make sure you never see the light of day again. Or your friends. I need that information that you have in your head. I can take it by force, but I’m hoping that I will not have to take such drastic measures.”

Sera snorted in disgust and shifted away from the wall, scooting backwards in her cell with her arms crossed beneath her bust. “You think that I know more? Look. I don’t know what exactly it is that you aim to gain from this venture of yours. I tend to keep to myself. I know what I want to know and what I need to know and beyond that, I don’t care. I don’t know what Maxson has been planning and I don’t care. I follow orders when I get them and I take care of myself otherwise. You wanna know what I know about the Brotherhood? I know that a man was killed because he was a synth and I know that Nora betrayed them and HIM to stick around with you just cuz you popped out of her cooter all those years ago. How’s that?”

The synth that accompanied Father shifted in place and shot her a glare through his sunglasses. “You will address Father with respect,” he said coolly, resting the palm of his hand on the butt of his rifle.

“Or what, princess? Ya gonna shoot me? Lose your precious source of information? Oh no. I don’t think so,” Sera said with a scoff. “You’re all the same. You think like children. It’s… degrading of yourselves.”

The man that Sera had begun to know as Father stood with a heavy and disgruntled sigh. “Very well. If you will not divulge the information that I need, I have no further desire to speak to you. I will have your meal brought within the hour.” He then turned to the synth, then glanced between him and Sera. “X6-88, I would appreciate it greatly if you remained here with our guest and kept a close eye on her. Mother can operate without you on the surface, should she desire to leave.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Before you go,” Sera quipped, eyeing Shaun closely as he approached the door, “what exactly is it that you’ve been dosing me with?”

Shaun paused and looked back at her, hesitation lingering in his gaze. “We have been administering steady doses of jet mixed with concentrated stingwing poison into your system. It causes extreme fatigue and slows cognitive functioning. Thank you for reminding me. X6, please give our guest her next dose. She’s getting a bit antsy.”

As he spoke, the synth at his side entered the cell with her next dose. Sera drew away, but she was too weak to fight it. Powerless to stop it from happening.

“Goodnight, Miss Carter.”

* * *

“Have we gathered any new intel on the whereabouts of Nora Hayes or Sera Carter?”

The scout that stood before Maxson was dwarfed by the man’s sheer size. It almost reminded him of Sera herself, save for the fact that Sera was far more defiant and less prone to trembling like a leaf in the wind. “Forgive me, Elder. We only know that Paladin Carter left all of her belongings aboard the ship. All that we know is missing is one of her jumpsuits. Paladin Hayes’ belongings have all been removed from the possession of the Brotherhood. All the scouting teams have found is a sheet of paper that Carter left in Proctor Quinlan’s lab…” Timidly, the scout fished the sheet of paper out of his pouch and passed it to Maxson.

Maxson took the paper from the scribe with a skeptical glare. He had to admit that the idea that he’d have to lose another Paladin was something he was extremely against. Sera had been an exceptional soldier; she’d never failed a mission and never missed a beat. If she was MIA, a hole had been created in his plans. Not to mention that Hayes had gone AWOL. Truth be told, Arthur Maxson had grown tired of dealing with rogue Paladins and ugly plot holes. More than that, he felt a considerable amount of concern for his comrades. Perhaps Sera in particular. Maxson knew better than to let favoritism take it’s hold, but Sera had something special to her spirit. She wasn’t a blind follower and she had her own aspirations, but she didn’t let them stand in the way of her duty. She respected authority (for the most part) and he respected that in her. He’d grown to enjoy several things about her personality that others didn’t particularly agree with. Namely her dubious scrutiny and bluntness. Her sincerity and honesty did many great things for her as well. He even liked that she was an untrustworthy woman with a selfish attitude. He needed her within his ranks if he desired to have a worthy successor and he needed her around if he was to have a model soldier to stand as an example for the initiates and the squires.

His eyes trailed over the notes scrawled over the page and his grip slowly tightened on the thin parchment. He couldn’t decide if he was more disturbed or baffled. Nora Hayes had found her son within the Institute and neglected to tell him about it. Not only that, but she was possibly working in their favor. Her disappearance said as much. Maxson stuffed the notes into his pocket and immediately marched outside. He heard the scout scrambling to keep up with him, but he didn’t have the time to slow down for someone else. Quickly, he boarded one of the docked vertibirds and demanded that he be taken down, commanding an authority that only he could reign in with his troops. The vertibird unhinged from the locks holding it in place docked at the Prydwen and dropped violently into the air. Maxson’s leg bounced with impatience, producing a satisfying tapping sound with the heel of his boot. The impatience he felt was one that couldn’t be ignored.

He didn’t even wait for the aircraft to land. As soon as they were in jumping range of the ground, Maxson leapt from the passenger seat and threw himself out the door, only to land on both feet with unexpected – albeit clunky – grace. He didn’t even stop to brush the dust off as he sped on towards Ingram. She noticed him approaching before he even cleared half the distance. She picked up on his urgency and passed her clipboard to a nearby scribe, approaching Maxson to meet him half way. Maxson himself shoved several scouts aside, as well as two scribes. Ingram recognized that anger.

Maxson’s face burned red with rage. He could hear his pulse pounding in his ears, feel the blood rushing to his head. It made him dizzy, but he ignored it as easily as if it were a gnat in the grass. The more he envisioned the imprisonment of his finest officer and the betrayal of yet another Paladin, the angrier it made him. The more he thought of the words scrawled out on that crushed piece of paper, the more violent his mood became. He felt that it was somewhat foolish to be so angry about a replaceable person being captured… but she wasn’t really replaceable, was she? Nobody would ever be like her ever again. She was one of a kind, and the Institute had her tied up somewhere in their hellish death maze of a lair. Not only that, but yet again, another mistake had weaseled its way beneath the nose of the Brotherhood and soiled his plans.

“Proctor, we have a situation,” he said hurriedly, brandishing the sheet of crumpled paper so that he could quickly thrust in her direction. “We need an agent to go into the Glowing Sea. We need to contact the scientist that Nora Hayes used to get into the Institute. She’s betrayed us.”

Ingram took the sheet of paper and immediately started to read over the scrawled-out notes when he handed it to her, but he gave her no chance to ask questions. He was already pushing past her into a thrall of scribes and knights, only to climb the stairs to the platform where the computers that were connected to Liberty Prime stood at the ready. “Knights, I want all of you to listen very closely. Paladin Hayes is a traitor and she’s taken Paladin Carter into custody, possibly as a prisoner of war. I need one of you to enter the Glowing Sea to seek out the doctor named ‘Virgil’. The one who returns with information about the Institute will receive a full promotion with perks.”

Only two people were brave enough to step forward. Scribe Haylen and Paladin Brandis. “We’ll go,” Haylen quipped, looking up at Maxson with a determined glare. “But we don’t want a promotion. We want your word that Paladin Carter won’t be assumed a traitor, should she be recovered from the Institute.”

Maxson paused for a long moment. Scribe Haylen’s loyalty couldn’t be questioned any longer; she’d helped the Brotherhood find Danse after all. She deserved the benefit of the doubt. With a resigned sigh, he nodded. “Very well. Scribe Haylen and Paladin Brandis will be assigned to journey through the Glowing Sea. Be warned. The mission that the two of you are about to embark on will be one of great danger, possibly the most life-threatening journey that you’ll ever have undertaken in your lives. Make no mistake, there will be a great deal of danger. God only knows what hell lives in the Glowing Sea. And I should tell you right now; when you return, you will be expected to give a fully comprehensive report on what you see and hear from this person Virgil. I want every single bit of information down to the tee. No exceptions. Should you encounter Hayes for any reason between here and there, you’re to kill on sight. That goes for everyone here.”

Haylen and Brandis exchanged glances. Haylen had been proud of Hayes; she respected her and expected great things from her. Never to be in charge of putting her down. But Sera had been her friend for much, much longer. It was far from Haylen’s best interests to put a minor acquaintance before a close friend. Both nodded to one another before Haylen directed her attention back to Maxson. “Where should we start, Elder?”

“You’ll be given four hundred capsules of Rad-X and as much RadAway as you can carry in a single pack. Take whatever amount of stimpaks you need. A suit of power armor will be assigned to you, Scribe. And to you, Paladin, we will be administering a minigun with as many fusion cells as you can carry. You have an hour to gather your things and prepare. Ad victoriam.”

Both saluted immediately. In quick succession, everyone else around them saluted as well. In unison, they shouted. “Ad victoriam!”


	5. The Glowing Sea

The Institute had finally been kind enough to put a calendar and clock in her room. They’d even been so polite as to give her a radio to listen to. She often sat in the corner of her cell wrapped in a stark white security blanket as she listened to Diamond City radio and sang along idly to the songs she knew. The Ink Spots crooned from the speakers of the ancient device, bringing an odd comfort over her. It was like a mental blanket meant to keep her safe. Her thoughts, however, were elsewhere. Sera feared that she would never leave the Institute again and her mind had been replaying happy moments in her life to keep her in check. Her time spent with Danse and the other Paladins, the time she spent exploring the Mojave, and of course, her time in Maxson’s company.

She knew better than to hope for foolish things like freedom from such a place or even the chance to see her stoic guardian again. She knew better than to hope that there was a life waiting for her beyond the walls of the Institute, for she’d surely be labeled as a traitor to the Brotherhood of Steel or suspected of being a synth. She couldn’t hope that she could build the life she wanted before because the chance she had was destroyed when the bombs fell. She’d spent many hours dreaming of freedom, glory, romance and friendship, but she knew better than to hope. She’d never sought out such trivial things. The life she led wouldn’t permit such things. The life she was forced to live wouldn’t permit it either. There were better things in her future than growing attachments to those that she would inevitably outlive, or friends that she’d lose along the way. There was no glory in being captured and certainly no freedom in incarceration. But she had to admit to herself even now; being so far from everyone and everything had destroyed her. It killed her to be so alone and so empty in a place so stark and cold.

It was painfully familiar to be so alone in such a horrid, empty place.

In all the memories that Sera had made over the years, only one gave her comfort.

A moment of drunken comfort had passed over Sera once upon a time. She’d been celebrating a successful sweep and retrieve with Maxson and her fellow Paladins following a very close raid that involved crushing a hive of super mutants. They’d all been partaking in the finer side of post-war whiskey in the confines of the Prydwen’s forecastle, a rarity that could make a grown man cry. The whole company had been more than proud of their accomplishment; three behemoths had fallen in the line of fire and been taken down with the force of a wall of Paladins. Any super mutant that crossed their paths had been razed to the ground without a moment’s hesitation and it felt damn good to be the one to have found the nest to begin with. Not only had Sera located an entire throng of mutants, but she’d also found an enormous supply of medicine and surgical equipment. It was a massive find for the Brotherhood and she’d been the proud one to have found it. They all drank to their hearts’ content, and when the Paladins had all retired to their quarters and the night was over, Sera joined Maxson in his quarters for their own private celebration. The duo spent the evening talking about their aspirations and the future of their careers, each going into drunken detail for what they wanted and what was expected. Sera had been brave enough to tease Maxson, and even steal his battle coat to boast her ‘perfect’ impression of him. Luckily enough for her, Maxson was a relaxed drunk and laughed with her. The night ended when she fell asleep in an armchair in the corner, cozily wrapped in a blanket.

In the Brotherhood, there was rarely an opportunity for pleasantries or celebration. There certainly wasn’t the chance to laugh with those around a person and simply enjoy the time spent together as friends and comrades. There were so few but precious good memories for Sera to hold on to due to her time spent with the Brotherhood of Steel. So many magical moments shared between herself and her friends that she would hold dear in her heart till the day she died.

So many beautiful memories had surfaced in so little time. So many great things that she could never let go of. But in the grand scheme of things, all of the good in her world had been greatly outweighed by the bad. She couldn’t stop herself from remembering when the bombs fell. The night that her whole world came crashing down. Sera curled up into a tighter ball in the floor as her eyes fell closed, trembling from the cold and the strain on her body.

_‘I couldn’t save her.’_

_In the sky, ashes fell like snowfall. Smoke thickened in the sky to cover the sun, encasing the world that Sera knew in darkness. Everything seemed so surreal, like she was only just waking up from a thousand-year sleep. Streaks of soot and dirt coated her flesh, filling in spaces where clothing should have been but was ripped away. Several burns singed her flesh black as fires raged behind her. She could feel the heat even after escaping the fallen remains of her home, crawling across the ground to grope at anything she could use to pull herself out. She felt the pain, but something in her mind blocked it out. It whispered to her, ‘keep going’. She didn’t stop till she’d pulled herself into the street, then rolled over so her back was crushed against hot asphalt._

_She could hear the screams of those around her dying. She heard it like the songs of the damned ringing in her ears, demanding her attention. However hard she tried, she couldn’t block out the clamor. Those screams haunted her. When all fell silent, there was little left than the distant howl of beasts that remained a mystery for a long time and the roar of ever-persistent flames in the homes around her. Sera lay in the street of her destroyed hometown for what seemed like hours, staring up at the ashes that billowed from still-burning houses._

_She found it painfully ironic. Sera had built her whole life on taking the lives of others. But when it came down to the point where she had to watch everyone around her dying, something inside her twisted into a tight knot and then snapped in an instant. Sorrow, despair, regret… all of the feelings one wished never to feel at once came washing over her in the shadow of an instant. She choked on her own bile; it took everything she had in her to keep herself from throwing up. The whole world was falling apart. So many things had happened in the span of only two hours; the bombs fell, the world crumbled, everyone around her perished and joined the ashes of the homes that they’d been so happily living in. Sera had been content to keep to herself for a very long time. Only when she lay on the ground, beaten, burnt to a crisp, and helpless did she understand fully what her life had been._

_Sera had spent an enormous portion of her life working out of Mariposa as an assassin for the government. Her missions took her all over the country and all over the world, doing the dirty work that only she herself could shoulder. She was a ruthless, stone-cold killer and she took no prisoners. She followed orders to the tee and never questioned why. To many, Sera was the perfect soldier. There was only one way to make perfection better. She’d accepted a special strand of FEV. The only truly successful strand. She wanted to be something more powerful than she already was. Because of that, she was forced to survive an atomic blast._

_A child’s cries had brought her attention back. She’d been staring for so long that she’d completely tuned out the world around her to lose herself in her thoughts. The soft sounds of rocks shuffling to her left coupled with muffled sobs caused Sera’s head to turn. Standing there in the center of the street was a child. She was no more than eight years old. Marisol Lindbergh, her next-door neighbor’s daughter, stood in a tattered night-gown with a teddy bear crushed to her chest. Burns covered the child’s body, oozing puss and caked over with grime and soot. Patches of hair clung to Marisol’s head, but little more of her identity remained. Tears streaked her cheeks, carving shallow trenches in the ash and dust that had layered itself upon her face._

_Sera forced herself to sit up and rest against the post of her mailbox, gasping for breath when the strain became too much. She almost toppled to the side._

_“Marisol,” she said softly, her voice coarse. Her throat and mouth were dry; she could barely form the words. “Come here. Come to me,” she whispered, holding a burnt hand out. Marisol stumbled slowly across the street, feet shuffling through debris. When she reached Sera, she collapsed into her arms. Marisol’s breaths were rough and raspy. Her chest rattled with each inhale; Sera instantly recognized it as death breath._

_“It hurts,” she whispered. “It hurts so much.”_

_Sera fought hard to keep tears from forming in her eyes as she cradled the child, cupping her cheek. Her thumb brushed over the girl’s tear-stained face, smearing grime on her skin when she tried to wipe away her tears. “Shh… I know. I know,” she whispered, brushing her fingers through mousy brown hair with a low groan. Marisol was so small; she’d been so strong before all of this happened. Now she felt lighter than air and cold as ice. “It’s okay. I’m here now.”_

_“I’m scared…”_

_“It’s okay…” She paused for a moment of silence while she stroked Marisol’s hair. She was so incredibly exhausted, so broken. Her head rested against the mailbox, eyes straining to see into the distance. “Go to sleep, my love,” she sang softly, “go to sleep… just go to sleep… my love…”_

_She felt when the teddy bear fell to the ground. She heard the last breath leave the child’s breast. Tears stung in her eyes as she gripped the child a bit tighter against her, grasping at the last shred of hope that hung from a thread. A single sob, long and low echoed in the night._

_Then, darkness._

* * *

The Geiger counter was off the charts. In the Glowing Sea, it was entirely expected, but Haylen still felt a large amount of unease at being in the middle of such a dangerous shit-show of a place. Several times already, the duo had been forced to face creatures that Haylen truly wished that she’d never have to see in her whole life. Brandis wasn’t much worse for wear; he wanted to leave just as badly as Haylen did. The desire to leave was their cue to move ever faster through the wasted ruins of ‘ground zero’. The two were ungodly amounts of careful to avoid deathclaws and the endless nests, which they seemed to find in every single nook and cranny that the Glowing Sea could offer.

“Watch out ahead, radscorpions just took a trip to tunnel town,” Brandis called over the radio, nodding out towards three matching heaps of dirt. “Make sure you check your fire; the buggers are smart and could end up getting us in a position where they’re directly between us. We don’t want to accidentally shoot one another.”

Haylen had heard him, but she was incredibly determined to push forward and _get out of the damned Glowing Sea_. She didn’t hesitate for even a moment; the small scribe moved into action with determination, leaving Brandis to quickly follow in tow with his minigun raised and prepped for firing. Right on cue, the trio of insects burst from the ground. Brandis opened fire instantly, splattering the first across the ground in a mess of guts and gore. Haylen handled the second on her own, firing her laser rifle at it with an aim that surprised Brandis with its precision. She handled herself quite well with a weapon, he’d learned, though she never used one actively in the field.

The third radscorpion proved to be less of a challenge than the first two; Brandis and Haylen both had to admit that they were proud of themselves for being so quick to handle the situation. Not to mention that Maxson himself would be proud to hear of their progress towards Virgil’s cave. The two pushed on with pride in their hearts, headlamps on at full power so that they could see through the amassed clouds of radiation that hugged the surface of the ground. Hordes of ghouls had come crawling out of the muck on several occasions, only to be met with a spray of lasers from the minigun. As they went, their progress was more and more swift, but the closer they got, the longer it seemed to take. Each second stretched into a minute with ferocious intensity.

Haylen climbed a hill; be it dirt or rubble, she couldn’t identify the substance. Her eyes strained to see through the helmet’s visor, but she could make out the lights of a distant settlement. She remembered seeing information about the Crater of Atom in Hayes’s reports. Perhaps that would be their ticket to finding Virgil. She beckoned to Brandis to follow as she moved against the winds that were quickly becoming a radstorm, urging the power armor to obey her command with a soft grunt. She still wasn’t used to the enormous suit yet; it had become more cumbersome than it was helpful. But the longer she spent in the Glowing Sea, the more grateful she was to have it.

The settlement was… well. In a word, it was eccentric. It was very obvious that it was the crater that served as the source of most of the radstorms. The Children of Atom had settled into the cranny comfortably and acted as if it wasn’t a sweltering cesspool of radiation. Haylen was sure that she couldn’t be overly cautious when she inched around the edges of the bomb site and moved towards what she could only guess was the home of their leader. Brandis took a different approach; he walked straight through the center of town without a care in the world, sure to show off his minigun to any of the residents that dared move closer than he felt was welcome.

A figure emerged from one of the buildings that had been snugly lodged into the rock formations surrounding the crater. She held an oil rag in her hands, cleaning away what one could only guess was either irradiated sludge or dirt from her hands. She eyed both visitors with caution as they approached mumbling softly to those that surrounded her. When Brandis and Haylen stopped before the makeshift home, the woman motioned to those in her company with a vague wave of her hand, dispatching the members of her entourage to the edges of the crater.

“More of you, I see,” she said, her tone exasperated. “What do you wish to gain from us this time, hmm?”

Haylen stepped forward and nodded her head respectfully. “We simply wish to find Virgil. We’re told that he may be our only hope; a danger so far unprecedented has showed its face in the Commonwealth. We need his help.”

The woman sighed and glanced between the two. “You must give me your word that no others of your ranks will step foot upon our lands again. We’ve had more than enough trouble from your friends in the past; they interrupt our prayers to Lord Atom and we don’t appreciate it in the slightest.” Her eyes fell on Haylen for a long moment. “Especially not the same one that came here last time. She led a deathclaw into the camp. If my scouts find another breaching the perimeter, you two will answer to Atom for your intrusion.”

Haylen nodded immediately. “You have our word! Cross our hearts, hope to die!”

A quizzical glance came from the Children of Atom that surrounded her, but she was otherwise ignored. The leader sighed heavily and stuffed the rag into her back pocket before motioning towards one of the walls of rubble that surrounded the crater. “He takes sanctuary in a cave to the south. Be wary; a deathclaw nests at his doorstep and Virgil in particular isn’t overly fond of visitors.”

The two left in a hurry. As soon as the woman gave a direction and some sort of indication of where Virgil may have been, Haylen took off running for the crater’s edge with Brandis in tow. She was careless to the final details of Virgil’s dwelling; her mind was hard-wired to be set on the fact that was going to be able to leave sooner than they both expected. She inwardly hoped that this Virgil person would have a way to contact the Brotherhood via radio to call in a Vertibird to pick them up. Otherwise, she’d reasoned that they could simply go to the sentinel site and hitch a ride from there.

She climbed out of the crater at top speed with her laser rifle gripped tightly in the large fingers of her power armor. Her footsteps trampled the ground and echoed across the vast emptiness, muffled only by the thick clouds of lingering radiation. With each step, she disturbed a swathe of radiation particles that were thick enough to be smaller clouds; a strange trade-off from dust clouds in the Commonwealth’s more radiation-free zones.

She ran for a good five minutes with a renewed determination. Brandis was amazed that anyone could go that fast in power armor; he himself was having trouble keeping up with the scribe as she ran through the muck beneath their feet. Finally, the cave came into view. Haylen almost let out a cry of elation to see her destination in such close proximity. Her joy, however, was short lived. From her left came the thunderous tremors that were familiar only from stories that she’d heard from her fellow Brotherhood members. Before Haylen could properly react, she was showered in a spray of dirt and a roar shook the sky. Tremors ran through the ground as a deathclaw shoveled handfuls of the earthy muck, crying out in an angry assertion of dominance. She lifted her gun to defend herself, managing only to fire off a single shot before it charged with an arm in full swing. As if she were a rag doll, the beast slapped her down into the dirt. It climbed over her and pinned her in place with its massive weight, making an escape impossible. Haylen screeched when she heard the painful cry of bone on metal; it’s claws raked at the power armor, trying to pry its plating away so it could reach the tasty treat inside.

Brandis charged with a roar and raised his minigun, unleashing a barrage of lasers upon the beast’s hide. Haylen took the opportunity to lift an arm and swing, throwing a mighty punch at the deathclaw’s face. Two teeth fell free from its maw when her fist made contact. Metal met bone with a satisfying crack and its head snapped back a fair distance. Haylen hit it once again to earn herself freedom. That second swing did the trick; the deathclaw released her and reeled backwards with a pained roar, throwing itself instead into Brandis’s path. The Paladin quickly fired another round of lasers with gusto, hefting the weapon to his hip. The minigun screamed to life, pushed to the limits of its capability until finally the deathclaw fell dead.

Haylen lay on the ground while she processed the events that had unfolded; she was too stricken with shock to bother to move a muscle. Her breath was short and came in small bursts of air. All she wanted was to escape the power armor for a good rest of her life and take a deep breath of almost-fresh air. However, she knew that doing such a thing in the middle of the Glowing Sea would likely mean the end of Scribe Emily Haylen.

Brandis held a hand out to her and beckoned with his fingers. “Just a little further, Scribe,” he said with a proud chuckle. “Then we can tell the others all about how you punched a deathclaw in the face.”

Haylen took his hand quickly and pulled herself upright, grunting when the metal ground together. Once she’d properly regained her footing and managed to make sure that every limb could move, she quickly checked the HUD display within her helmet to gauge how bad the damage was. The torso of the armor would have to be either repaired or replaced and the left arm was damaged, but no radiation was leaking in and for that, she was grateful.

Brandis had already started to take the final steps towards the cave, waving Haylen along with one hand. She followed him closely with her rifle at the ready. If she remembered correctly, Virgil was a super mutant. She could only hope that his mind hadn’t completely left him yet; the information they needed from him was crucial to their mission.

When they entered the cave, they were met with a mostly dark and dank room. A spotlight slipped across the ground for a brief moment before disappearing again, illuminating the surroundings. Boards had been laid through the entrance of the cave and two automatic turrets whirred on either side of the door. Can chimes hung throughout the small space.

“Hello?” Haylen called as she pushed past a chain of chimes. “Is anyone here? Virgil?”

“Stop with that damn yelling,” came the reply from further within the cave. Haylen and Brandis moved forward through the makeshift shelter, and as soon as the Geiger counter dropped below five rads, Haylen removed her helmet for a breath. The cave smelt rancid, but she forced herself to ignore it. Past the duo of turrets was a much larger, well-lit space. A man approached with a clipboard in his hand and a pencil in the other, eyeing the two past thick-lensed glasses. “Who are you, and what do you want?”

Among a protectron and a mess of computers was – much to their surprise – not the super mutant they had been expecting. There wasn’t anything special about him; he wore a lab coat and his glasses, and he looked just as normal as the next guy. Haylen couldn’t help but wonder if Nora hadn’t been lying about the super mutant all along to keep the Brotherhood from bothering with associating with the man.

“We… were expecting a super mutant,” Brandis said in awe. “At least that’s what Hayes told us you were…”

“As you can see, I’m not,” Virgil replied coolly. He approached the two soldiers with a soft huff, slipping his hands into the pockets of his coat. “Not anymore, thanks to my research. I expect you’re here on Nora Hayes’s behalf, yes? She’s been a great deal of help to me; I greatly appreciate her efforts.”

Haylen and Brandis exchanged a worried look before the scribe cleared her throat to speak. “We’re actually here on Brotherhood business. We don’t have any intentions on harming you or anything of that nature. We just need a map of the Institute… and where they hold prisoners.”

Virgil seemed taken aback; his eyes grew wide behind the lenses of his glasses. “Prisoners-! I never knew that they’d actually… god. They’ve really done it this time. It seems like they’re getting desperate for an edge. Look, I have a small map, but it may not be much use to you,” he said quickly as he ran towards the back of his cave. “I’ll mark the holding cells, but if they actually bothered with a real prisoner, it’s likely that this person you’re after is in an isolation chamber in one of the labs.” As he spoke, Virgil scribbled several notes onto a large sheet of card-stock that Haylen quickly identified as the map. He passed it to her in quick succession, eyes alight with a flame for vengeance. “If you’re going in there, I suggest taking an army. There’s no way you could make it through that hell on your own.”

“Not to worry. We have a big-ass robot.”


	6. Reason and Morality

When she emerged from the vault, Nora Hayes had been a good person. Her morals stood without question; the lawyer turned wastelander had been one of mercy and proper leadership. She mourned for those she lost and she felt love for those she gained. She knew right from wrong and she could discern friend from foe. She understood who was hurting the world and who was saving it and she had the utmost confidence in those around her. Preston Garvey served as her first and closest friend following resurfacing. Not long after, she eventually fell in love with Preston, the man that guarded her and provided security from the fears that he couldn’t succeed in reviving the Minutemen. She ushered in friendships with the best and the worst of the Commonwealth, from a soldier in the Brotherhood to a rough Irish ex-raider gone cage fighter. Nora had been a good person; she’d been one of the best of them all. She earned fame all across the Commonwealth by erecting settlements and razing raiders, saving lives and recovering strength in those who could help keep the world safe. She reunited the Minutemen and guarded over the Commonwealth like a vigilant angel. Her world was turned upside down when she completed her first missions for the Railroad and she found joy in the company of Deacon and Desdemona and had felt pride at liberating synths from their Institute shackles.

Then the Institute happened. Shaun happened. Nora Hayes had so many good ideas for her son and herself. She had an enormous number of plans for what she wanted to do once she found him and how she could raise him. She had a multitude of thoughts and imaginings for what would happen once she was reunited with the only person in the whole world that she had left. But things certainly had not turned out the way she had planned. The moment she laid eyes on her sixty-year-old son, she knew deep down that she couldn’t ever turn her back on him again. Something in her changed that day. Everything was about Shaun and whatever he wanted. If he hated something, she hated it. If he hated someone, she hated them. She’d completely lost her sense of moral direction when she entered the Institute. Quickly and assuredly, she became obsessed with the duties within the group. She destroyed the Railroad and everyone in it, including those that she had come to consider family. At Shaun’s request, she tagged along with the Brotherhood to gather information and learn their plans. She got close to one of the Paladins and became quick friends with the captain. Eventually, she killed their best soldier. And now she’d abducted their best assassin and newly acclaimed best soldier… and locked her in a box.

Nora felt no remorse for the death of her friend. She felt no regret in leaving Garvey behind. All there was in her world was Shaun and all she had in the world was her son. A son on the verge of death. The only thing Nora felt anymore was the fear of losing her son and the hatred she’d have for herself if she let his legacy die. Even if the Institute was all she would have left of him, she knew it was still part of him. It was his life’s work and his greatest treasure. Nora was determined to preserve that, even if it meant sacrificing everything she was and everything she could have been to save it. She knew she’d undermined the trust of the Brotherhood of Steel. She’d been instrumental in retrieving a beryllium agitator, a power source for the Institute’s reactor. She’d become a hero of sorts to all of those that worked under Shaun’s care. Nora had even taken to calling her own son ‘Father’, just as everyone else did. She practically worshiped her own son in the same way the Children of Atom worshiped radiation. His existence was her life; his word was her life. All because grief had torn her apart.

She paced silently in front of Sera’s cell, hands tapping lazily at her Pip-Boy. Her prisoner was curled up in the fetal position. Stringy strands of matted crimson hair fell in her face, blocking any expression from Nora’s view. It was almost infuriating how silent Sera had been throughout the whole ordeal; if she’d just given them the information they wanted, Nora could have let her gone home. But no. Nora knew only that Liberty Prime was supposed to be instrumental to the Brotherhood of Steel’s plans. She knew that they intended to use the enormous robot to find the Institute and possibly to start a war with them. However, beyond that, she was in the dark regarding what Kells and Maxson both had arranged. She didn’t know what Maxson planned to do after they got Liberty Prime in working order. She didn’t know what Ingram and the good doctor had programmed into that enormous head of his. She knew only this: Sera had all the answers. Since joining the Brotherhood, the only thing Nora learned about Sera’s personality was that she knew all of the answers. Everything about everyone. And Nora was angry that the redhead wouldn’t divulge such information to her. Had they not been nice enough? Not given her enough gifts and persuasion? Should they cut off her food supply and starve the answers out of her?

Nora groaned. The answers had all been at her feet in the beginning. Her charisma had gotten her anything she wanted; she wasn’t used to being denied the things she demanded. She liked being able to pry information out and threaten fear into those that opposed her. She hated the feeling of inadequacy that Sera gave her when she tried to get the information from her. More than that; Nora hated losing and felt rather vindictive in turn.

“Wake up,” she demanded, rapping on the glass with a well-manicured hand that she had balled into a tight fist.

Sera glared up at her, icy eyes pooling with disgust and defiant rage. That was another thing Nora hated. She couldn’t break that spirit. If she could do anything in that moment, she would have forced the fire in Sera’s eyes to be put out. She would have extinguished every hope that the woman had right then and there. But Father demanded obedience from his mother and pleaded with her to let Sera come to terms with her situation. ‘She’ll come around in time,’ he’d told her. Nora doubted his words, but she was bound to his wishes. She loved him too much to defy him.

“Fuck off,” Sera spat in return, gripping her blanket to pull it over her head. “I don’t have anything new to say to you today, Hayes. You don’t even deserve to hear me speak.”

It was pushing her last nerve. The defiance was disgusting. Didn’t Sera know who she was? She was the next director of the Institute. She was going to be the woman to usher in the future of the Commonwealth. Nora’s mind worked quickly, sifting through the things she knew and noticed about Sera. The wheels in her head were turning at an alarming rate; she knew that Sera had various friends and emotional connections in the Brotherhood, despite her icy disposition. She knew that Sera valued her work and the people that were brave enough to join her on missions. More than that, she knew that Sera was extremely angered when Nora followed certain orders. A devious smile curled onto her lips when she reached a button worth pushing.

“You know, maybe I should let you go after all. I’m sure you’re just dying to watch the Institute swarm the Prydwen. To see our synths tear you all apart. Hell… I might even let you watch when I blow Maxson’s brains all over his precious windows,” she said, eyes glimmering with wickedness. “I’m sure you miss him the most. It’s a shame really; he never really gave you the kind of attention you seem to like giving him. All of those googly eyes and puppy-dog looks of yours, just to be cast away in the light of the Brotherhood’s ‘glory’. I’m sure he’s up in the Prydwen right now planning how to execute you for treason. After all, you’re here. Not there. Not doing your duty. He’ll put you down the same way he put Danse down. Like a dog.”

God knew that Sera was trying as hard as she could to keep her cool. However, the heat of anger that built in her face betrayed her. She was trying – and failing – to ignore the things that Nora was saying. She knew damn well that the other woman was trying to push her buttons. The thing that angered her the most was that she was succeeding.

The remark about Danse was the last straw. Sera didn’t have much strength left, but she would be damned if she was going to listen to Nora carry on any longer. Her movements were quick, powered by adrenaline-fueled rage. She stood slowly, progressively straightening to her full height. A glare passed between the two as Sera thought about the techniques she’d used to calm herself down in militant training. She balled her hands into tight fists and faced Nora full on. She didn’t even think to stop herself. She threw her fist in a right hook through the air, sailing straight towards Nora’s face. Then suddenly… CRACK. One finger broke. A second became dislocated. Across the glass of her cell, a jagged line appeared in its flawless surface. Blood slid from her knuckle to smear on a small portion of the crack, seeping into the wound in the glass. Sera stepped away from the wall of the cell with a steadying breath, nursing her hand with the tender touch of her left hand’s fingers. Nora was very lucky that there was a barrier between them.

“You shut your fucking mouth about him,” she said in a low tone, eyeing Nora with a predatory gaze. “You have no fucking right to even have his name in your mouth, you filthy wench.” Her uninjured fingers gently massaged the other hand’s knuckles; she could feel the blood on them already beginning to clot and dry into place.

Nora had pulled away. The glass was an inch thick. The fact that Sera’s punch had been strong enough to damage it, especially after her medication, put a new kind of fear into her heart. However, it subsided into ease when she reminded herself that she had plenty of backup should she need help handling the situation. More than that, Nora had a gun while Sera had nothing and X6 was right outside the door, awaiting her command.

She chuckled, pacing towards the door with her palms resting on the lazy curve of her hips. “I understand what it’s like, Carter. Developing feelings for someone that you were sure was just a friend. It isn’t a fun thing, is it? Especially because the line of duty demands that you don’t fraternize with a superior officer… what a shame.”

It took a moment to register that the subject of Sera’s rage was shifting from Danse to Nora’s remarks about Maxson. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to understand that Nora had insinuated that she was getting ‘friendly’ with her leader. “I don’t have feelings for Elder Maxson, Hayes. He’s the leader of the Brotherhood. I respect him more than anyone aboard the Prydwen.”

“Is that so? Then tell me. Why is it that you spend so much time working so hard to please him? Why do you spend so much time in his presence, even if you have nothing to say? Reports are filed on paper, not in speeches, Carter.”

Sera shook her head and forced herself to take a long, deep breath. She was well-aware that Nora was using those fancy lawyer techniques of hers to get into her head. “Don’t be stupid, Hayes. If that’s how you want to look at it, then maybe you should re-evaluate the way you spend time with your son.”

Nora glared at her with the devil in her eyes. Almost as if there was no barrier separating them, she leaned in and jabbed at the glass with a pointed finger. “Don’t you DARE talk about my boy that way. Shaun is a great man who has done great things. Anyone would be honored to be in his company. The faculty of this institution owes him a debt that they can never repay and he’s going to be the man to save the Commonwealth from itself. He’s going to bring peace and love and recovery to the world. He’s going to help us. He’s going to save us.”

“He’s going to die.”

Motion within Nora ceased within a fraction of a second. Her muscles locked, her eyes met Sera’s and burned alight with rage and disgust. More than that, with despair. Sera couldn’t help but notice that her eyebrow twitched when she was angry. “Don’t you say that.”

“Look, doll. You’re good at a lot of things, but hiding your concern isn’t one of them. I’ve seen it in your eyes. There’s something wrong with him. You’re mourning him even before he’s dead. My best guess is that even he didn’t escape the radiation. Cancer, yes?”

Nora knew a lot of things, that much was certain. But Sera knew a lot more. She hadn’t only known about the cancer because of a lucky guess; Quinlan and Ingram had recovered information on ‘Father’ from the data mine they’d performed on the Institute’s computer. With a lot of persuasion and a special trip into the Commonwealth to find him some chocolate, she’d convinced Quinlan to let her dig into the information he’d found. In an interesting tidbit of information, Sera had discovered that Father had developed leukemia.

Sera had struck a chord by bringing it up. She hadn’t wanted to see someone that she used to call a friend hurting in such a way, but her options were running thin. Nora was starting to cry. “Don’t you ever say that. He’s not going to die. We’re going to save him. We’ll find a way.” Her sobbed words were slowly turning into determined statements. “You’ll see. He’s going to live. He has to. The Institute needs him. I need him. We’ll save him. You watch.”

Nora flew out the door in tears. She was shaking uncontrollably; it was like Sera had electrocuted her with a thousand volts. The last thing Nora wanted to do was burst into a fit of tears over something that hadn’t even happened yet. It was taking all of her power to keep from ordering the nearest synth to put a bullet between Sera’s pretty blue eyes. Her steps echoed down the hallway as she charged towards the elevator that she’d be taking back up into the innards of BioScience. Sera had no right to say those things about her son. She didn’t know anything. Sera was insolent and had been sticking her nose where it certainly did NOT belong. Shaun was sick, but that word suggested he could be cured. Nora knew that his days were numbered, but she had hope in the scientists. She had hope that they would find some way to prolong his life, some cure that would save him from the death in his blood. She had to let herself believe that he could live to fight another day because he was all she had left in the world. Sera was wrong. Anyone who said that Shaun couldn’t make it was wrong. He was going to live. He was going to keep on making synths and he was going to survive. She had to believe in the abilities of those that he’d kept in his inner circle. She had to trust in their abilities. He was going to live. He was going to live.

“He’s going to live.”

* * *

 

They would have to proceed with the plan early. The Institute had too much information for them not to; the Brotherhood was running out of time. Not only that, but a rescue mission was in order for his new best soldier. Sera was somewhere locked up in there. Maxson feared that she’d been dissected or worse. He didn’t know what he was supposed to believe or what was going to happen. If he was lucky, they hadn’t gotten around to making a synth to replicate her yet. If he was luckier, she was still alive. Arthur Maxson grasped at a strangely large amount of hope for her. As if that wasn’t enough to boot, the whole situation made him edgier than ever before. He was angry all the time. He lashed out at his men and comrades, he’d been on edge and restless for the better part of the passing days since Nora had disappeared with Sera in tow. Even his sleep was interrupted by the incredible amount of stress put on him by the ordeal.

It felt incredibly strange to go without her company. Several times, he’d absently searched the ship for her, told a scribe to give her orders, or waited for her to deliver a report. All these things, even when he knew better than anyone that she wasn’t there. It confused him how blatantly angry it made him when others talked about her. He’d even shouted at a young initiate whom had commented on her physique. Her absence affected him in strange ways. Not only did it feel like there was a break in the chain of command, but it also felt like there was something consistent that was missing from his day. It made him uncomfortable when he passed through the mess hall, only because she was usually there when she was off duty, trading stories with the other soldiers. He paused for the briefest of moments in front of the Paladins’ quarters, only because some part of him hoped that he could open the door and she’d be there.

He thought about her smiling. Laughing. The times when they’d first started getting to know one another when she’d drag him along the ship on some childish venture that he had absolutely no interest in but had agreed on because the Sera he knew off-duty was so incredibly different from the soldier she presented to the rest of the Brotherhood. Because since day one, icy blue eyes beckoned him from his stoic disposition and convinced him to be more… relaxed, she’d said. Because that smile of pearly whites enthralled him. Because her laugh coaxed him into things that were, while boring and insignificant, in some way enjoyable. He missed when they were young and lacked responsibility, but there was no reason for them to be so frivolous anymore. Their duties had multiplied tenfold on both accounts, accentuated by the responsibility that they had over other soldiers. There wasn’t time for wild venture or irresponsible shenanigans.

As her superior, he knew he hated having a missing subordinate. As a friend, he forced himself to face the fact that he missed her.

He knew her personality on two levels. He’d gotten to know her as a soldier just the same as the rest of the knights did, and in the private hours of post-duty down time, he’d gotten to know her as a laid-back individual that enjoyed getting herself into a mess of trouble. There were many times that herself and the other Brotherhood members had gathered in the cafeteria to listen to the radio, singing along to whatever songs they knew and laughing over beers. He’d grown used to learning insignificant facts about her, like how her favorite color was purple and that she liked Dion and Elvis the best out of all the music that survived the war. She used to have a dog named Dimitri and liked to cook when she had the time and resources. She had a rather endearing personal image of him that was both unflattering and – dare he admit – comical at the same time. He picked up on minute details, like the way she frowned when she was deep in thought or how she chewed gum when she faced anxiety. He noticed how she walked a bit taller after he complimented her and how he himself seemed to stand a bit higher when she approached. He noticed that she smiled only on rare occasion and that she was cold as ice when on duty.

When he met her, Sera was a wicked woman with evil intentions and a heart of hell fire. When he met her, she was trapped in her own fear and personal isolation. But since they had met, her life had become the Brotherhood and her friends. She’d become the model soldier and a dear friend and companion to the Knights and Paladins of the Brotherhood. She’d become his closest friend and confident. Her status on a personal level rivaled even Kells.

Arthur Maxson was coming to terms with two facts about himself. One: he had developed a bias towards a soldier and let himself fraternize with someone beneath him in the chain of command, and two: he was smitten with Paladin Sera Carter. Whether he wanted to or not, he felt an intense connection with his Paladin and he could never deny that after all of their time together, somewhere was a crack in his defenses that her strange effect had slipped through. Up till the point that he met her, he’d lived life to serve the Brotherhood and dedicated every moment to his work. Now he was questioning the duty that said to leave her and eradicate the Institute for the good of the Commonwealth. Leave her behind. One for the good of many.

But that wasn’t what it was to him. It was himself for her and the Brotherhood for the Commonwealth. Sera had to be saved. The Institute had to be destroyed. Someone had to go out of their way to rescue the ‘damsel in distress’, though Maxson would never regard her as such. As far as he was concerned, if someone had to risk their life for her on his order, it would have to be him. Not only that, but Nora had to be stopped. Whatever had gotten into her head had caused her to be a menace to the Brotherhood and a monster that took sides with the enemy. It enraged him on every level imaginable.

Perhaps that’s why he pushed himself so hard to get everything into working order. Maxson spent hours making adjustments to his mission plan. He’d hardly slept at all once Haylen and Brandis got back with the map and information they had gathered from Virgil. Ingram and Quinlan had joined him at the drawing board; they both suggested a multitude of ideas and plans that the three had managed to weave together into a single consolidated plan of attack. Captain Kells eventually joined them to offer his own insight, giving the foursome further light on the subject at hand. They pushed the date of the attack and sent several scouting missions out to find a new power source for Liberty Prime. It took days, but finally a group radioed in with coordinates for sweep and retrieve.

“How do you want to start, Maxson?”

Everyone had gathered in the center of the airport at Liberty Prime’s feet, all looking up to Maxson’s position upon the platform with Ingram and Madison Li. They all stared up at him with pride, each and every one in full salute until Kells shouted ‘at ease’.

Maxson took a slow, deep breath to steady the rage within himself for at least _five damn minutes_ so that he could explain the plan in full. “Doctor Li has programmed Prime with the coordinates to C.I.T. We aren’t entirely sure where the Institute is from there, but according to the information gathered from the scientist Virgil, it’s somewhere underground in the general vicinity. While the troops storm the Institute, a group of three, likely myself, Scribe Haylen, and Proctor Quinlan, will search the facility for Nora Hayes and Sera Carter. Should any of you find them before we do, your orders are to radio in immediately and inform us so that we may assess the situation. Once the prisoner and traitor have been retrieved, we will overload the Institute’s reactor and blow the place straight to hell, along with all of their synths.”

Everyone waited. Maxson knew what they expected. They awaited a great speech; the final battle cry from their fearless leader. Another breath. Another five minutes.

“Men, this is going to be a day to go down in history. Be it written or remembered, we will not know for a long time. The world is in danger for as long as the Institute stands strong, releasing their abominations upon this world. We can no longer allow that to happen. It is our duty to the people of the Commonwealth to protect everyone from the threat of the Institute. Even now, they take our soldiers and destroy them. They snuck one of their creatures into our ranks. They twisted one of our Paladins against us. They hold our greatest asset hostage. Men, until we stop the Institute, they will know no limits. They will feel no shame. They will feel no regret for the things they do or the people they harm. But the Brotherhood is going to deliver a swift and painful message: the safety and future of the Commonwealth lies in the hands of the Brotherhood of Steel. Ad victoriam!”

He threw his fist into the air and every soldier in range followed suit. In unison, the phrase rang out across the Commonwealth, echoing off the walls of the airport and shaking the very heavens. The world trembled at their feet. At that very moment, Proctor Ingram hit the button that started Liberty Prime’s systems.

“Green lights across the board, Elder. You ready to light this candle?”

“I’m more ready now than I’ve ever been.”


	7. Ashes to Ashes

The ground quaked with each step Liberty Prime took, shaking the earth beneath the feet of the soldiers. Maxson walked side-by-side with the behemoth of a robot gripping a laser-firing minigun in his hands. They were nearing the ruins of C.I.T. and the closer they got, the more anxious he felt. There was no way for him to know if Sera was safe or even if they had the correct coordinates; he was taking everything on the word of a rogue scientist that lived in the Glowing Sea. But he was determined to find her. He was determined to bring hellfire down upon the Institute and their abominations. He didn’t even bother taking pride in killing super mutants or raiders on the way. He didn’t care when a super mutant behemoth fell beneath the fire of his minigun. He didn’t even care when Liberty Prime droned on about how great America was before the war. He held onto his one-track mindset throughout the entire journey.

“Sir, we have movement ahead. The troops said that they saw bursts of blue light; it could be synths,” Ingram called as she joined him at his side. “We suggest exercising caution; these little buggers can be nasty things. You know first-hand though, don’t you?”

“Indeed I do,” he growled, brows knit in his famous permanent scowl. Ingram wondered if he’d ever smiled in his whole life. “Ingram. Move to the right side of Prime and prepare for a battle,” he said in quick succession, wrenching his weapon further up to rest against his hip. They were coming up on C.I.T. and he was more prepared than ever before in his life. Ingram did as she’d been instructed and quickly shared a glance with their leader. They both knew full-well that there was a possibility that they wouldn’t make it out.

Upon arrival to the ruins of the C.I.T. building, the soldiers of the Brotherhood of Steel were met with heavy resistance. Synths of all types came pouring onto what quickly became a battlefield. Almost immediately, the members of the Brotherhood and the synths began to release a rain of fire upon one another. Maxson quickly raised his minigun to his waist, firing at the machines as he advanced. Liberty Prime was quick to leap into action. The whistle of nukes flying through the air rang in everyone’s ears as Prime threw his missiles, one after the other, at the synths. In an instant, what had been a swarm of incessant synths was reduced to ashes and radiation. But Liberty Prime didn’t stop there; he threw yet another, hurling it into a fresh batch of enemies with gusto. Maxson quickly checked to see who all had become casualties to the synths and was relieved to find that the soldiers that had come on the ground were still standing. Above hovered the vertibirds that held the rest of the forces intended to storm the Institute.

“Objective reached,” Prime said loudly, a belated announcement of his arrival. “Scanning defenses.”

A heavy silence settled over the area while the blue light of Liberty Prime’s visor set the walls alight with its blue glow. The quiet was entirely unpredicted and very unusual. Maxson found himself gripping his minigun tighter as he glanced around him to meet Ingram and Quinlan’s gazes. Something was off. Something was… wrong. Then, all at once, the peace came to an end. In bursts of electric blue light, swarms of synths came barreling out at the combatants on the surface. Before many could react, thousands of shots had been fired off by the advancing mixture of gen-2s and striders. Two knights fell and remained still and silent. Several others followed. Soldiers began to scatter in search of safety from the unexpected new force while they reloaded their weapons. Panicked screams left those that didn’t escape the barrage and had been shot. Maxson ran as well, seeking shelter behind a large chunk of fallen stone. He quickly set his minigun on the ground and reached instead for his own laser rifle, looking over his cover only to fire several rounds into the head and chest of a quickly approaching synth strider. To his right, he heard the familiar mechanical voice of another of the Institute’s minions and was quick to fire off another round, blasting its head off of its shoulders.

“Warning: subterranean Red Chinese compound detected,” Liberty Prime droned as he casually threw yet another nuke. This time, however, Brotherhood soldiers and synths alike fell to Prime’s weaponry. Maxson was shaking uncontrollably with rage as he watched more of his men – his brothers at arms – die for the Institute and their synths. It disgusted him to no end. “Obstruction depth: five meters. Composition: sand, gravel, and communism. Tactical assessment: breach compound to restore democracy.”

If Liberty Prime said more, Maxson didn’t hear it. He was swimming in a pool of rage. Maxson grasped his minigun once again and charged forth from his cover, mowing down any synth that happened to stand in his path. Ahead of him he saw Liberty Prime firing an enormous laser into the ground, likely digging into the concrete and soil beneath to reach their destination. Proctor Ingram came from left field with a synth crushed in her hands; her rifle was gone, he noticed. Somewhere behind him, Maxson could hear an earth-shaking explosion. He didn’t even need to look to know that a vertibird had gone down in flames. But he clenched his jaw and pushed forward, firing off round after round into whatever he saw fit. He only stopped when Liberty Prime threw a nuke into the newly drilled hole in the ground, causing something akin to an earthquake.

Half of the forces of the Brotherhood of Steel entered the facility. The other half stayed above ground to hold the line for the Commonwealth.

* * *

 

It sounded like thunder. Sera could feel the room around her shake violently and very clearly heard the roar of an explosion above. The lights in the room flickered out, effectively bathing her in total darkness. Sera wasn’t sure what was happening, but whatever it was, was big, for the strength of the shockwave was enough to further crack the glass around her. A second shockwave rocked the facility and the walls of her cell buckled against the force before promptly shattering. Shards of the broken walls fell into her hair and on her body while larger pieces sliced into her arms and legs when they descended, effectively putting holes into the Institute’s jumpsuit. Sera grunted softly, reaching across the threshold outside of the cell to touch the floor of the room beyond. Cool linoleum tile met her fingertips, coupled with fragments of glass. She cared little for the destruction in the room. She couldn’t see, but she could easily feel her way around. It was in that way that she crawled out of her cell, careless to the various cuts that she earned herself on the broken glass. An especially deep cut startled her and she called out in pain. She twisted around to view the damage. The information that she registered was that when she pulled her leg over the base of the wall, a larger piece of glass had embedded itself into the muscle of her thigh. She reached with her left hand to tear away the piece of glass, gritting her teeth to fight the pain. Blood seeped out of the open wound, staining the fabric of her clothing.

Sera crossed over the rest of the glass, grimacing when she felt smaller pieces becoming wedged into open wounds. She couldn’t find the door, but memory served her well when she looked for the radio. She found it by groping away at the floor till her hand brushed against the smooth rubber that encased it. With trembling fingers, she twisted the first dial to turn the radio on. The small display flickered to life with an eerie yellow glow, partially illuminating the room around her. Sera groaned. Blood smears marked the floor and her hands, mingling in with the glass and bits of torn fabric. Only then did she notice that the walls around her had taken some damage; this must have been one of the older rooms. It wasn’t as well made as the rest of the facility; the proof presented itself in the walls, which were starting to buckle under the pressure of the beating the facility was taking. Whatever had hit the ground hit hard and hit fast.

The door wasn’t far from her; Sera shifted towards it with a soft grunt. She hardly had the strength to move, but she forced her body to work with her. She only had to combat the poison until she reached the others. She had to fight the pain long enough to get out of isolation. That’s where they would find her.

Once she reached the door, she sat up and leaned against the cool metal of the wall to treat the injury on her leg. With a tender, delicate touch, Sera peeled away a shred of fabric from the leg of her jumpsuit to make a makeshift tourniquet. She couldn’t survive if she bled out all over the floor. Gently as she could, she lifted her leg and worked the fabric under her thigh so that she could wrap the wound to the best of her ability. When the cut was sufficiently covered, she tied the fabric into place. Then came the next step. She forced herself to stand. A scream tore from her when the muscles in her thigh pulled against the wound. Blood poured down her leg and onto her bare foot, pooling in the floor. There wasn’t time to be attentive to the pain though. With as much willpower as she could muster, Sera hobbled against the door, collapsing her weight against the smooth surface of the metal while she tried to pry it open with her fingers. A deafening screech of steel scraping against steel rung in her ears, but she eventually managed to work the door open just enough that she could squeeze her way out, careful to avoid further damage to her leg.

Before her was a long corridor. At the end stood another door. A light flickered above the second door, promising safety and a way out. Slowly, she pressed forward. She had to fight with every ounce of her being to keep herself from falling to the floor each time she took a step. Her teeth started to hurt from how hard she was biting down, jaw clenched to keep her from succumbing to the pain. Her head spun from dizziness and exhaustion. The light ahead of her looked red, even though she knew for sure that it was white. Her body felt incredibly cold, likely a side effect of blood loss.

“I’m almost there,” she whispered to herself, moving forward with shuffled, stumbling steps. Then she saw it. The doors parting. The silhouette of a figure in the light moving towards her. _No_. It couldn’t be her. Not again. “Nora.”

“Hello again, Sera,” Nora said, rage in her tone. “How about you do me a favor? Be a good girl and…” as she spoke, Sera saw her raising her gun. Sera had no time to react as the other woman brought the butt of the gun down on her face. “…take a nap.”

The hit had effectively knocked her out. Nora knelt beside the collapsed body and gripped a hand full of crimson hair. Without a single bit of remorse in her soul, Nora dragged Sera to the elevator. In Nora’s mind, Sera was the key to stopping all of this. She would be the bargaining chip that would convince Maxson to leave and spare Shaun. This would be the way that she saved her son’s life and re-established equilibrium within the Institute’s walls.

Once Sera’s body was inside the elevator, Nora punched the key that would take her to the BioScience lab. The doors to the elevator slid closed with a satisfying clap of metal on metal and the car began to rock ever-so-gently as they ascended the many levels of the Institute’s underground lair. For her own amusement, Nora found herself tugging lightly on Sera’s hair. Her only regret was that Sera wouldn’t be awake to give her the proper heroic battle that she felt she deserved. Nor would she be conscious to witness the death of her friends. But it was no matter. One way or another, Nora had every intention of using Sera to her advantage.

* * *

 

So many had fallen. For every synth Maxson shot down, two more took its place. For every knight shot down, six more pounds of ammunition was wasted to destroy their executioner. They had made great progress through the Institute. Somehow, they had managed to find their way into an enormous laboratory full of plants and what looked to be… animals? The synthetic gorillas that Nora had mentioned in the playback of Danse’s memories, Maxson had guessed. Once they’d cleared the synths and scientists, they had proceeded into the central chamber of the facility. It was enormous. Larger than anyone in the Brotherhood could ever have guessed. There were trees in each corner and an elevator that could travel to heights and depths that Maxson couldn’t even begin to guess.

There were dead scientists laying in pools of their own blood everywhere too.

Destroyed bits of synth material had been scattered all throughout the chamber, littering the once pristine facility with the Brotherhood’s destruction. Several soldiers had been forced to flee from their power armor due to loss of power, only to be shot down by synths that hid in every corner. Blood spattered the walls and floors, coated weapons and armor, stained lab coats, and caked onto faces of those that stood too close. Various fluids spilt by the synths mingled with the life liquid of the humans, indicating the diversity of death in the room.

Once a portion of the synths had been dispatched, Maxson quickly sought out Haylen and Quinlan. Haylen held the map in shaking hands, eyes filled with fear and steadfast doubt. She had long since separated mentally from the rest of the soldiers.

“Haylen, are you going to be able to operate under these conditions?” Maxson found that he had to yell over the roar of the discharge of weapons.

Haylen only nodded and gripped the map tighter. She was afraid, but there was no doubt that she was determined. She had failed Danse. She refused to fail Sera as well. As quickly as her hands could work, she unfolded the map and sought the locations that Virgil had marked. They started with the first lab that they could get into: robotics. The trio moved quickly across the center of the facility, charging directly to the lab. They found several rooms, each checked in quick succession. The only door that led elsewhere was an empty maintenance shaft that came to a stop as a dead end. Next was the Synth Retention Bureau. They found several training rooms and a closet full of what they could only guess what was courser uniforms – but no Sera. Maxson made it a point in his mind to avoid returning to that lab, lest he blow another fuse. They couldn’t gain access to the Advanced Systems lab, and found it useless to re-evaluate BioScience. They all three assumed that the lab had been thoroughly searched in their first run-through.

The map that they held had been so far useless; even when they HAD followed it to the specific locations marked, there hadn’t been anything worth mentioning to find. Only one room indicated Sera’s presence in the facility, and that was the room that Ingram had found. The room where the teleporter was. Based on what Ingram had yelled over the intercom, the data on the computers there had provided substantial amounts of data on their quarry, as well as the prisoners held in isolation. According to what she found, Sera hadn’t been replaced, nor had she been killed. And on a side note, she’d said, she found how to get to the reactor. The problem therein being that someone had to find the director’s room. Someone had to find Shaun.

The biggest problem faced by the Brotherhood of Steel hadn’t been the synths or even the discourse. It had been the fact that Nora Hayes was somewhere in the facility doing God-knows-what. Nobody had been able to find her after the initial attack. Once the fighting broke out, Nora stayed for a fraction of a second before disappearing into the labyrinth of rooms and hallways that kept them from finding her.

By what Haylen believed to be complete chance or a miracle, herself and Maxson had managed to rejoin their comrades in the central chamber. Quinlan was quick to join them. They found that the Brotherhood hadn’t succeeded in destroying the Institute, but they had certainly done a number on it. Fires raged in the trees, burning through wood and plastic. Piles of exploding synths burned in great numbers. Even the old robotics lab had gone up in flames, causing a very satisfying explosion. A great number of the lights had been shot out in the battle.

Maxson dropped the minigun; he traded it instead for a laser rifle taken from a dead synth. He moved quickly across the space between himself and the next lab, firing away at anything smaller than power armor that moved, careful to avoid Quinlan and Haylen.

“STOP.”

The world froze. Maxson skidded to a stop in his tracks. Everyone in the room turned to look at the source of the yell. They knew that voice. They knew who it was. Standing at the door to the BioScience lab was none other than Nora herself, with Sera hugged against her chest in a head lock. In one hand, she held a serrated combat knife with the blade pressed firmly to the woman’s throat. In the other, Nora gripped a mass of blood-red hair, pulling her head back to expose the flesh of her gullet. Maxson could already see a bead of blood slipping down the edge of the blade. Sera was gripping Nora’s wrist, clawing at her arm with what was left of her fingernails. Her body already adorned with an assortment of cuts and scrapes; Sera looked like she’d been through hell and back. Her nose was bleeding and flowers of purple had bloomed across her cheek and forehead, bypassing an eye that was swollen shut and stained with blood from a busted brow. Maxson couldn’t decide if he was more pissed off or scared for her.

Sera was doing her best to look at him. She looked incredibly broken. “…Arthur,” she croaked, grasping at Nora’s fingers but failing when her strength ebbed. Maxson felt his gut twist.

“Is that any way to act when you’re a guest in someone else’s home?” Nora quipped. She looked so sinister standing there, back to the flames with a barely-conscious body in her arms. Sera stirred only slightly beyond her cracked speech. The softest of grunts could be heard from across the way. She was in so much pain. “Maxson, I’ve arrived here today to make a deal. I want you to leave. In return, I won’t slit her pretty little throat. But… then again…” Nora chuckled and dragged the knife down Sera’s throat. She didn’t put on enough pressure to cut deep enough to kill her, just enough to slice a pretty cut into her otherwise smooth skin and put on a show for those who were watching. Sera whimpered softly, but she made no attempt to fight back. Nora was sure that she was thinking it, but she couldn’t even if she wanted to. “…disobedient children must be punished.”

“You let her go,” Haylen yelled, throwing a fist into the air to point at Nora. “She’s not a bargaining chip that you can use as a means to an end. She was your FRIEND once, Hayes!”

“SHUT UP. I’m not here to speak to you, worm,” Nora hissed in reply. Her grip on the knife tightened. Haylen noticeably flinched away from what was, at this point, perceived as a very real threat.

“Please don’t hurt her.”

A snort came from the sole survivor, who violently yanked at Sera’s hair. It was enough to draw a soft yelp. Unsatisfactory. “You sound like a kicked puppy. Both of you do,” Nora hissed as she pulled Sera’s hair again. “So instead… how about you do me another favor, hmm? Why don’t you sing like a bird for me, kitten?” Nora released Sera’s hair and passed the knife to the freed hand, then brought the blade down into the soft flesh just below Sera’s collar bone. That did it. She screamed, adrenaline fueling the little bit of motion she could muster to reach for the knife. Nora chuckled and twisted the blade within Sera’s shoulder, summoning cries of agony. Out the corner of her eye, several guns were noticeably raised. “If you try to shoot me, I promise you… her heart isn’t too far away from her neck.”

There was one unanimous thought that the people in the room shared: they would never forget that scream.

* * *

Sera was writhing. The pain in her shoulder was incredibly intense. It had taken her ten minutes to rouse from her fugue state; the blow taken from the gun hadn’t been enough to render her entirely unconscious. She still heard everything around her, she could see, but only barely. She could smell the smoke and feel ash burning her leg. Everything was moving incredibly fast from her perspective. But when the knife entered her flesh, she was wrenched back to reality with incredible speed and pain. Tears pooled in her eyes, but they did not fall. She refused to let them. Her muscles cramped from trying to hold herself up in Nora’s grasp. Her thigh felt like it was on fire. She feared that if she didn’t try to hold her own weight, however, that Nora would either choke her or break her neck on accident. But god, she couldn’t escape the pain.

She couldn’t see much from the angle that her head was held at. She could see the flames and the smoke, the darkness of the abyss above. She could feel the blade retreating from her flesh, but the relief was short lived. Nora was a vindictive woman, through and through. Just when Sera thought it was over, there it was again. The knife in her shoulder, twisting blood out of her body. It seeped into her clothing, stained her skin. The pain was so intense that she couldn’t even scream anymore.

“Look at him,” Nora hissed, shoving Sera’s head forward so that she could see the mixture of Brotherhood soldiers and synths before her. Her gaze fell finally on Maxson. She knew she couldn’t keep the pain out of her eyes. The pain nor the horror. “Look him in the eyes while you scream, pretty girl.”

She refused. She forced herself to find some kind of strength beyond the poison that sped through her veins. She found that strength, what little there was of it. It was a task that felt impossible, but Sera’s elbow swung up with as much power as she could muster and slammed straight into Nora’s nose, causing her to stumble back while eliciting an angry roar. Sera dropped to her knees, grasping at the handle of the knife. Five fingers gripped the leather on the handle’s butt and she pulled the blade from her flesh, crying out as white-hot pain washed over her. The serrated edge of the knife was tearing away bits of her muscle, ripping flesh from flesh and bone.

Sera knew that she couldn’t stop fighting back there. She acted as quickly as her body would allow, twisting just in time to catch Nora off guard. With every last bit of adrenaline and rage-fueled strength in her form, Sera forced herself to stand, then charged and threw herself at Nora, whom grasped at her nose with one hand and reached for her laser pistol with the other. Sera wasn’t quick enough to avoid the shot; the first bullet struck her square in the chest. She could feel her rib crack and give way, then searing pain like no other when it passed through her lung. The second shot was less dangerous, as it only hit the side of her neck, instantly burning the flesh but circumventing any major damage. Sera had to do everything in her power to avoid registering the pain, instead jumping across what space was left between them.

Even with her small stature and the weakness in her muscles, by some miracle, Sera successfully managed to tackle the larger woman and straddled her waist, pinning her arms with her knees. There was no hesitation in her actions; without a single second to spare, Sera raised the blade into the air… then brought the knife down with a mighty cry of defiance and sheathed the blade through the side of Nora’s throat. She could hear the blood seeping into the other woman’s esophagus. Nora would drown in her own blood; there was no way to recover from such a wound. The job was done. But Sera had lost herself in blood-fueled rage. She roared in anger and gripped the sides of Nora’s head, repeatedly lifting and slamming the back of her skull into the floor. She could feel Nora writhing beneath her; she could feel the other woman’s legs kicking and flailing, but she didn’t stop. She heard footsteps as someone ran to grab her, but she did not stop. She heard the scream of discharging weapons as the battle continued, but she did not waver. She beat Nora’s head into the floor until she could see bits of skull and meet soil the floor. Even then, she didn’t stop. It was for Danse. It was for the Brotherhood. It was for every person that had ever been replaced by a synth, for every person killed by their beasts. It was for every single knight that lay dead on the floor around her.

She knew her strength had failed her when her breaths came up short. Her grip went slack almost instantaneously and whatever was left within Sera that kept her sitting had failed. The blood loss had drained what little strength was remaining in her body. With tears in her eyes, threatening to fall, she collapsed to the side with a sickening thump. The world around her seemed to be so muffled and blurred. She couldn’t see properly, but she knew that someone was gripping her shoulder and turning her onto her back. She couldn’t hear worth a damn, but somewhere in the destruction, she heard her name. She couldn’t properly respond. A long, forlorn sob escaped from her lips, but nothing more. She could feel the smoke burning her dry throat, feel the ground leave her when arms cradled her. Then she could smell the musk and sweat of whoever it was that picked her up.

The world around her shook violently. The carrier of her body was either running, or the Institute was beginning to crumble. Whatever the case may have been, she couldn’t tell and didn’t have it in her to try and find out. She only realized who held her when he shouted to his men. That voice that demanded so much attention and commanded so much respect. The lightest of smiles tugged at the corners of her mouth; so near death and she was still thinking of jokes to make about him.

“So serious,” she rasped, her tone joking. She couldn’t drop to the lower octave that she used to mimic him, but she tried her best. “The big boss, always in control.” Her breaths were leaving her. The wound in her chest had opened the way into her organs; blood was pooling in her lung. She knew by the way that her breaths became more and more difficult to take. Her eyes opened only slightly so that she could gaze up at her guardian. He was a blur in the chaos, but she could see him. The scruff of his beard and the sweat glistening on his forehead. He only looked down at her on occasion, but she could see the fear in his eyes. “Leave this place, Maxson,” she whispered softly. “Put me down and run. Everything… burns. It hurts. I can feel everything fading. It’s… like floating. But also like drowning at the same time.”

Maxson’s arms tightened around her as he charged through the area. Proctor Ingram’s voice sounded over the intercom, “We have the doors to Advanced Systems open. Someone managed to reach the director’s room.”

“You’re going to live,” he said through grit teeth as he and the others around him ran for the lab that promised the security of victory. “I refuse to let you die here today.”

“I’m already dying, Arthur,” she replied simply. Not ‘Elder’ or even ‘Maxson’. For the second time in their history since the day she’d met him, she addressed her friend by his first name. The first had been in the central chamber. This time was in the face of death and God and everyone.

“You’re going to make it.”

Maxson gripped the limp form of his Paladin tight in his arms, holding her close while he charged at the forefront of his company of knights into the depths of Advanced Systems. She was much lighter than he expected, and it seemed like she grew lighter and colder to the touch by the second. The amount of care that he put into holding her was only accentuated when they arrived in the reactor room. He knelt in the room just ahead of the reactor, shielding Sera from laser fire discharged by what few synths remained to stand in their path.

Haylen and Brandis took the forefront of the assault on the reactor, firing at synths and leading the way for the remaining Brotherhood soldiers to charge into the room. Explosions sounded right and left, announcing victory over one more synth with every shot fired. Cries of ‘hallelujah’ filled the air once the final adversary fell, clearing the path to the catwalk. Quinlan was the one to run up the steel steps and prepare the charge. Haylen was the one to follow, submitting herself to the dangers of radiation so that she could place the charge within the reactor core. Maxson joined them only when he knew that it was safe to, his scowl intensifying into determination and rage.

“Ingram,” he said loudly, “get us out of here. Let’s blow this place to hell.”

In a flash of blue light, they were gone.

* * *

From his perch in the director’s office, Shaun had watched his mother die. He watched his home and all of the people he knew and cared about being destroyed. He’d forced himself to get out of his bed to see it all. There was only one option. Everything that he had and everything he was, was gone in an instant. There was no reason to drag out the inevitable. He shut down what number of synths he could and opened the doors to Advanced Systems. He watched in silence as a barrage of soldiers stormed his lab.

He watched as the rest of his work was surrendered to the last standing enemy that the Institute had. Then, he made his way through the remains of his burning legacy. There wasn’t much left of his life; all of the scientists were dead. All of his synths were destroyed.

Shaun entered the central chamber to examine his scientists. He examined each one, searching for any sign of life while he fought to ignore the immense pain he felt in his body. The cancer was just a minor drawback now. It was just a small part of the pain that rocked his entire world. He slowly made his way past the wreckage to the doors of BioScience, where his mother lay dead on the floor with blood oozing from the back of her head and the wound in her neck. With the gentlest of touches, he withdrew he knife and brushed a hand over her face to close her eyes. With that, he cradled her in his arms and boarded the elevator.

It was a short journey upwards to reach the teleportation chamber.

It was there that he met Maxson and Ingram in person, holding his mother’s body in his arms. He didn’t shed a tear, for there were none left. He didn’t speak a word. He stood, staring. His form holding Nora’s corpse matched Maxson, whom held the body of someone that was just barely balancing on her last breaths. Silence. Maxson met his gaze, glaring into the eyes of the son of a traitor.

“It wasn’t meant to come to this,” Shaun said finally. “There wasn’t supposed to be any bloodshed. We just wanted… peace.”

Maxson said nothing. He only glared. A single look was shared between himself and Ingram before in bursts of blue, the knights and paladins of the Brotherhood of Steel were removed from the chamber. Next went Haylen and Quinlan. Then everyone else until it was just Maxson, Sera, Ingram, Shaun, and Nora’s limp corpse. Then, Maxson and the woman cradled in his arms disappeared in an explosion of light followed by Ingram, the last of the Brotherhood soldiers.

Darkness enveloped Shaun as he sat against the nearest wall, cradling Nora against his chest with a long, shaky breath. He felt the ground tremble for a long moment. The charge blew. Light and fire engulfed him. Then there was darkness.


	8. An Abomination

The last thing Sera remembered was laying on the rooftop of a building, staring up at the stars through parted clouds. She believed entirely that she would die; in her mind, those stars were just for her. Even when a great explosion rocked the earth and shook the building, the stars stayed unmoving, guarding over her and protecting her with their glimmering light. The pain and the fear felt like it had been an entire lifetime ago; those horrible wounds didn’t exist in the reality she created for herself while lying on the cold metal of the rooftop. Scents in the air promised rain in the days to come and the tremors beneath her promised peace. But the cold in her body and the tears in her eyes swore that she wouldn’t get to see it.

* * *

Her condition was worse than they had imagined. Whatever the Institute had done to her had caused a great deal of internal damage. For a long, sleepless night, Maxson presided over Cade and two young initiates in medical training while they worked endlessly to save Paladin Sera Carter’s life.

Cade had run a plastic tube into Sera’s lung to drain the fluids that had gathered within and injected her with enough stimpaks to heal a bullet riddled deathclaw. They had to scrounge high and low to find enough gauze to wrap her wounds and spent hours digging shards of broken glass out of her arms and legs. There was a long period where they simply waited as a blood transfusion was pumped into her veins to keep her alive. Her breathing was shallow at best, and she needed help at times. Cade brought out an oxygen tank and air mask to give her breath when her lungs failed her.

The wounds on her arms had been superficial and healed smooth as ever without a trace of a scar left behind thanks to the stimpaks. Those that adorned her throat, thigh and shoulder, however, didn’t smooth over quite so well. Angry pink scars formed where the flesh knit itself back together, decorating her flesh with fleshy lines that rose above the rest of her skin. Her bullet wounds almost had the same effect, save for their flattened smoothness thanks to Cade’s gentle work in smoothing the skin. To the relief of everyone in the medical bay, the stimpaks had been strong enough to successfully close the holes in her lungs and Cade had effectively drained all of the blood and accumulating fluids from it. The only issue remaining was getting enough air into the lung to keep it alive, which he promptly did each time he helped her breathe.

He wasn’t sure what was keeping her from waking, though. All assumptions had laid with the treatment of the Institute and whatever drug it was that they had administered to her to keep her docile. Without information to further expand upon, Cade couldn’t dose her with something to flush her veins of the toxin. They were lacking in options, so he turned to time to do its work.

“The best we can do for her is just let her rest and wait for her body to recover on its own,” he said finally as he gave her a final dose of med-x. “She’ll be out for a while; the blood loss was… well, it was immense. It’s gonna take her body a while to readjust and get blood circulating well again.”

“How long till she’ll be set for duty?” Of course, Maxson was thinking of her work, but also about the normalcy that would return to the Prydwen. Then again, everything had changed. Nothing would ever be normal again.

“It will definitely be a few days at the most. She’ll need time to readjust, of course. And we will have to run a psych evaluation to make sure she’s… stable.”

“Understood.”

* * *

_“I’m already dying, Arthur.”_

Those words had plagued and haunted him. She’d been so week and fragile in his arms. But she wasn’t. Beyond everything, she’d found it in her to joke and tease at him, regardless of the inescapable peril her life was in. The world as she knew it was coming crashing down and she still managed to keep her sense of humor about her.

It had been three days since they returned to the Prydwen. Three long, report-filled days. The Brotherhood hadn’t yet celebrated; Maxson made it a point to send out as many scouting teams at once as possible to fin the remaining synths and eliminate as many as they could before they could call their mission in the Commonwealth complete. Not only to assure that they had achieved the highest victory they possibly could, but also to provide some recovery time for the wounded. He’d busied himself with as much work as he could do to keep his mind off of the things that plagued him both. He was elated to learn that Sera had finally woken.

The scene, however, was dismal. There he sat in the medical bay with his hands clasped before him as he watched her. She’d been awake for an hour and a half, but she said nothing. She did nothing. She only stared up at the metallic sheen of the ceiling panels. On rare occasion, she shifted her position in the bed, but there were few moments that she actually bothered with motion.

“And how are we doing today, hmm?” Cade asked, announcing his entry by doing so. Sera said nothing. “I see. Well, we’re just gonna give you a quick dose of pain-killers so you can relax. I know those broken ribs aren’t treating you too kindly.”

Cade produced a tube of med-x and flicked the tip of the needle, pressing at the end of the pump to push whatever air was in the syringe out. Sera immediately tensed as she eyed the needle. Flashes of memory burned in her mind, firing off images of the synth that injected her with poison. She didn’t dare move; she knew that she had to accept the medication if she wanted the pain to numb. Even so, her entire body grew stiff as a board. Cade approached her slowly so that he could more easily address the issue. He did so with great care; the realization that there was likely some trauma residing in her system had given him incentive to reach out slowly with his empty hand and carefully brush the tips of his fingers along the skin of her arm. Maxson noticed her flinch upon contact, but she made no move to stop Cade. She didn’t even make a sound when he introduced the needle into her skin.

He worked quickly, injecting the medication into her arm and brushing away the small bead of blood that took the place of the needle when he was finished. “There you are, Paladin. Hope that helps.” When Cade passed Maxson on his way out the door, he clapped a hand onto the man’s shoulder and sighed. “She’s… torn up, Elder. I’d suggest giving her some time to process the things that happened in there.” With that, he excused himself, leaving Sera and Maxson alone in the room.

“You haven’t cut your hair.” The break in the silence surprised him; she was looking at him out of the corner of her eye, scrutiny ever-present in her crystalline gaze. “It’s longer. Not so… strange. I like it,” she mused idly, though her tone remained monotonous and empty. When he said nothing, the object of her gaze returned to being the ceiling.

Maxson had to resist the urge to reach up and run his fingers through the mess. Personally, he preferred the clean trim that he usually had, but only because he felt that it was a part of his image. Silence once again fell over the medical bay, accentuated by the way that breaths sounded so incredibly loud when either of them exhaled. Sera could hear the bustle of people down the hall enjoying meals of whatever rations they were serving in the cafeteria. Both of them were absorbed in the steady hum of the Prydwen’s engines and the low vibrations of turbines in motion, keeping the great ship airborne. The light above her buzzed softly, a common occurrence in older fluorescent lighting.

“I miss the grass,” Sera said suddenly. “I miss the flowers and the smell of clean rain. I miss the sounds of neighbors coming home from work in their cars, and kids playing with toys on the sidewalk.” Tears started pooling in her eyes, gathering in the corners only to slide down her face into her hair. “I miss the weekends when you could smell the neighbors cooking out in their back yards and the sounds of birds in the morning time. I miss when everything wasn’t broken. I miss when I wasn’t… when I…”

Maxson frowned deeply as he looked upon her, but dared not interrupt. He felt his stomach twist every time a tear fell, but he knew that he wasn’t welcome to act on the need to brush them away. As confused as he was, he didn’t ask what she meant when she mentioned those things. He only frowned more with each remark.

“I miss being normal.” Somewhere between the words, he heard her voice break. She’d turned her head to look at him, those strange, icy eyes boring straight into his very being. Her words dropped in volume as she whispered, “I’m not what you think I am. You think I’m the model soldier and some sort of road warrior but I’m not. I’m not… I’m not even sure if I’m human anymore.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The things that Sera were saying raised many questions in his mind, but he only asked one. “What the hell are you talking about, Paladin?”

Sera took a deep breath. It was time to put her cards out on the table. With her hands clasped over her stomach, she looked back up at the ceiling as her mind began to reconstruct the memories. “In 2076, I worked very closely with the U.S. army. I operated out of the Mariposa Military Base, a location that was centralized around studying and constructing the FEV. The forced evolutionary virus was supposed to be the final frontier in military training. Enhanced everything. Speed, strength, senses… the whole package. But many, many times, they failed… until me.” She took a slow, deep breath to steady her trembling body. Sera couldn’t even bring herself to look at Maxson. “I volunteered to be ‘Subject X’. Every time some part of the virus was successful, they isolated it, then took it and used it to construct the main strain. As you would expect… they made a lot of super mutants before they got to me. Countless soldiers were sacrificed in the name of perfection, discarded to join the super mutant army while I was administered the final product. The perfected FEV. But I was the only one who got the dose. In 2077, three months before the bombs fell, the scientists approached me with the final product. They called it the next step in human existence. It was… horrifying. They injected me with this… irradiated red stuff. It burned like hell. I could taste it in my mouth. Everything hurt. Every single sound, every touch, every scent burned my nose. My hair and eyes changed color. All the rest of my hair fell out aside from on my head. Something they called Alexandria’s Genesis. I got smarter, stronger, faster… I could see everything. Hear everything. Smell everything. I could feel the vibrations of a pen dropping five feet away. The world had so much more color… I had so much new… color. According to the scientist, my DNA had mutated into something strange. Hence the unnatural colors, you see,” she said, idly motioning at her face and hair. “Even my skin got paler. I never tan. I can’t get sunburnt. Radiation doesn’t affect me because at my core, I’m essentially a ghoul, I think. I… can’t have children. The treatment rendered me virtually sterile. I don’t age anymore; much like the normal ghouls, the deterioration of cells has slowed to a halt. I’m going to live forever with the creature I am, the things I’ve done and how I got to where I am today. I’m doomed to watch everyone around me die and see everything that I love fade into distant memory.”

She paused for a long moment. Sera couldn’t bring herself to look at Maxson. But she couldn’t stop. It was too late to turn back.

“I lived my life as an assassin back then, just as I do now. When the bombs fell, I was home. They… the scientists, I mean, told me that I could have some free time to myself before they started to test the depth of the physical effects. I… remember crawling out of the remains of my house. Looking at the world as a ball of fire and ash. I close my eyes and I see what the world used to be. The houses, the grass. Green leaves on the trees. But then… I also see the things now. I look back on the past two-hundred years, wondering why I was given this life. I was twenty-two when I agreed to the experiments. So young, so excited about life and the opportunities that the world laid at my feet. A prodigy in my own right; I was and always have been really good with weapons. Tactical thinking was a snap then, and after the FEV… it was so easy to find new ways to destroy the lives of others.”

She hadn’t even noticed that her cheeks were stained with tears until she took a breath and blinked.

“All of that, and now I’m in a hospital bed. Crying like a child about things that I can’t change to my commanding officer. I truly have never been so low.” Her voice had dropped in volume, only audible to those close enough to hear her breathing. Only to be heard by Maxson. “I’m an abomination. Everything worked out just like it was supposed to with the virus, but my life… my conscience… I could never bring myself to tell you. The Brotherhood was the only home I’d found after so long. After being alone for all of those years. I knew how you felt about ghouls and mutants and god… I’m practically one in the same. Both of the worst things you could imagine, crushed into one body. And after the ordeal with the Institute, for all I know, I could be a synth replication of the real me. I’m so sorry, Elder Maxson. I’m so, so sorry…”

Maxson sat in stony silence. His demeanor was that of contemplation. Even so, Sera couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She couldn’t even breathe. She didn’t dare take even the slightest bit of a breath. Slowly, he stood, pressing back the chair so that he could take a slow step away from the bed. The soft rustle of fabric reassured her that he hadn’t left. When she gained the nerve to look, she saw that he’d leaned against the wall, brows furrowed in thought. She couldn’t fight the small smile that formed in the back of her mind. He had on what she’d come to call the ‘grumpy thinking face’. It was immature as all hell, but she liked saying it. She liked to tease and push his buttons. But this time… this time she knew that she couldn’t say it. She didn’t say anything.

For a long, long while, Maxson didn’t speak. He couldn’t truly decide how he felt about what she’d just told him. Her dedication to the Brotherhood had been a truly magnificent thing. She looked human, she acted human. She felt human. Her skin was smooth like any normal human he knew. Perhaps unusually soft, like she’d never felt the dangers of the Commonwealth, but it was undoubtedly the skin of a human. Her personality had remained in-tact as well as any normal person’s. Her voice wasn’t scratchy and radiation-worn like a ghoul’s… it was soft and sweet like the women on the radio. The more Maxson thought about it all, the more distant he got from the present. He’d encased himself in thoughts that enthralled him; she was radiant. She was strange and obviously not the same as the rest of the humans aboard the Prydwen, but that’s what made her, well… her. Pale skin, crimson hair, and all. She was undoubtedly one of the strangest specimens he’d ever met, but he’d be damned if he threw her in with the lot of ghouls and super mutants. And yet she counted as two of the things he hated most in this world because of the FEV. It was a disgusting bias to count good looks as an exception to the rule. Or was it just her looks? If he threw in personality, the ghouls that hadn’t turned feral would have to be accepted too, right? He’d gotten himself into an argument with his own ideals and each side of the argument was fighting with everything they had. It only stood to reason that he could accept her due to her service to the Brotherhood and her unwavering support of their cause, even when she didn’t like the consequences that came with embracing their ideals. She killed super mutants, synths, ghouls – feral or not – and anything else that the Brotherhood demanded of her. Did that not warrant some sort of acceptance? No, Danse had been the same way and he’d been executed for being a synth. However, was that not within the realm of reason? He had never been human in any fashion while Sera had. She certainly wasn’t a super mutant in any regard, though she had the potential in her blood. She wasn’t physically a ghoul, but the effects were in her DNA. So… what was she? Was she an abomination of nature like she’d claimed, or was she just… the perfect soldier? Maxson’s greatest fear was the sciences of men that had taken it too far; perhaps this science counted among them. Was she though? Could he, in good conscience, damn her for the things that she revealed to him without feeling regret or remorse? He'd become emotionally invested in this woman; was his bias affecting his judgment? No, that couldn’t have been it. So then what was it that fought against all odds to tell him that he would be wrong to accuse her of being a monster?

The soft noises of shifting fabric drew his attention away from his dwindling thoughts. A bare leg slipped out from beneath the sheets while she gripped the edge of the yellowed material to pull it around her waist. Both feet silently touched the floor beneath and she inhaled sharply from the shock of the cold. Slowly and steadily, Sera forced herself to stand, gripping the rail that acted as the headboard of the bed with a soft grunt. Her balance was rickety at best; she stumbled when she took her first step away from the bed. Maxson felt that he moved a bit faster than necessary when he moved to her side to support her. As soon as she felt his touch, however, she violently wrenched away, toppling backwards over the bed with a crash. Maxson tried to grab at her to keep her from falling, but found himself leaning over the bed in a panic… but Sera wasn’t nearly as worried.

Her head came up on the other side, hair askew and the sheet tangled among her limbs. However, before Maxson could see anything that she deemed improper, she tugged at the fabric to preserve her modesty as best she could. “Oof,” she said with the slightest bit of a chuckle in belated response, pushing herself up off of the floor only to stumble across the room to the counter. It was there that she rounded said counter and fished a can of purified water out of the cabinet. The smile she had was faltering with each second, but she was proud to be standing. Maxson watched her in disbelief. She was still wounded, covered and bruises, and had fallen, and yet she’d taken the pain with a giggle. “You uh… you startled me,” she mumbled softly while her fingers worked at the tab of the can. Finally, it opened with a satisfying hiss of air.

“Do you need any kind of assistance…?” he asked, slowly approaching the counter.

Sera backed away, setting the can down on the counter top after a slow drink. She gripped the sheet a bit tighter. “No. Just… please. Don’t touch me. It isn’t anything personal or against you, I just…”

Her fingertips ghosted along the stretch of green-tinted purple that had exploded across her chest and face, then the scars on her neck. Sadness and residual distress clouded her expression, wiping away any trace that may have remained of her moment of happiness. A long, drawn out sigh of exasperation escaped her. Without much more than silence between them, she adjusted her makeshift dress and shuffled across the floor back to the bed. Maxson hesitantly accepted her request and moved aside so that she could collapse onto the mattress upon arrival. Those were the actions and emotions of someone who was undoubtedly human. It settled the battle in Maxson’s mind; she was a human being in his mind.

It pained him to see her in this condition. So broken and battered that she couldn’t even be herself. And yet… at the same time, she just was. She was herself but she wasn’t. The normalcy in her had tried to break through, and for a moment it had. But the trauma in her was winning the wrestling match in her head, keeping her from properly being what she was before. Maxson didn’t fear that she’d never be the same again; he feared that this new Sera was the way she’d be forever.

“I owe you an apology,” she said softly from her nest in the sheets, “for… in the Institute. I misaddressed you. It was insubordinate of me to call you by your first name.”

“…no need to apologize, Paladin. Your situation was out of your control.”

* * *

“So how goes it with our progress, Proctor?” Haylen asked, leaning casually against the great cement wall that separated the airport entrance from the broken highway.

Ingram had been hard at work clearing away space in the airport. Because of Haylen’s persuasive personality, the two had managed to talk Quinlan into helping them talk Maxson into throwing what was barely falling short of a party. They’d gathered together a collection of liquor that had been scavenged from the Commonwealth and cleared away a good portion of rubble to supply space, and Kells had begrudgingly granted them permission to use the Prydwen’s intercom to transmit Diamond City Radio, along with a few holotapes loaded with music recovered from data banks.

Haylen had done no small part; the idea to throw such a party had been hers and it had been herself and her team of scribes that had recovered the drinks and music. With the Institute defeated, the only thing left to do was celebrate. Well, the only thing that she wanted to do. The idea of heading back out into the field to gather more junk for the Brotherhood wasn’t nearly as appealing to her as getting drunk and dancing for a night.

“Here,” Ingram said, tossing a broom to the scribe. “You wanna have this thing so bad, you help out with prep.”

Broom in hand, Haylen crossed the space to stand with Ingram as she swept away rocks and dirt that sullied the ‘dancefloor’. “So how’s Paladin Carter?”

“I heard she woke up today. Apparently Maxson gave orders that she’s to be left alone though. She still needs time to recover.” Ingram knelt to collect a few stray caps, then swept away a mess of dust and rubble that covered the space. “She’s definitely lookin’ better. I went to see her yesterday just to make sure Cade hadn’t killed her yet. Her wounds are healing nicely but she took a good beating. The girl’s purple as all hell.”

Haylen sighed softly and leaned against her broom, resting her chin on the butt of the handle. “It’s easy to say she’s gonna be okay physically… do you think she’ll be okay mentally after all of this? That was quite the ordeal she went through. It worries me.”

“I think Maxson is having a harder time managing her problems than she is,” Ingram said with a chuckle. “Carter’s gonna be fine. Elder Maxson, on the other hand, is more tense now than ever. He’s carrying all the weight of this on his own shoulders when it isn’t his to bear. He does it with everything that happens here. He acts all cold and okay with his soldiers being ‘expendable’, but the truth is that he’s more concerned for our wellbeing than anybody on that damned ship. That makes him tight assed and strict, but it keeps us all in line.”

Haylen shot Ingram a doubtful glare, one blonde brow raising. “Is that so?”

“Look, Haylen, what happened to Danse… Maxson doesn’t trust synths. For all he knew, Danse was planning to kill us all. We know better, but Maxson always tends to do everything he can to keep the Brotherhood soldiers safe. That did mean killing a Paladin, a very popular one at that, but it was in the best interests of us all. He eliminated what he immediately perceived as a threat.”

“Yeah… I suppose you’re right. It’s still fresh is all,” Haylen said with a short nod. “I guess it’s gonna take some time to get over it all. I suppose we owe him. But I can’t help but notice… don’t you think he’s been acting a little strange lately?”

“Well I’m sure this party you’re throwing will be just what you need,” Ingram replied idly as she discarded her own broom against the wall. “I haven’t had the chance to take a good look at him, but I can tell he’s stressed.”

“His hair is growing out and he’s been pacing back and forth on the command deck like crazy, staring out the window at the new hole in the ground. I haven’t even seen him eat since we got back to the Prydwen. The only time he stops acting like a caged animal is when I deliver reports from scouts and recon groups,” Haylen stated as a deep scowl settled into her features. “He seemed even weirder today. He came down the steps to the command deck looking like he’d just seen a ghoul dancing on his mother’s grave.”

“I wouldn’t have the slightest idea. Maybe Carter said something that bothered him… oh well. Pick up the pace, scribe. If Carter is awake, we have work to do to make sure that she gets a good welcome home.”

 


	9. Red in Blue

The soft crack of a closing footlocker echoed within the quiet confines of what was soon to be an empty room. Slow, nearly silent steps followed in succession, ending when the rustle of fabric mingled with various bits of paraphernalia falling together when they settled in the bottom of a duffle bag. This bag was placed gently upon the bed, left to be retrieved at a later time. There was only the slightest bit of hesitance when the zipper slid along the length of its track, sealing the container closed. A heavy breath broke what was left of the quiet.

There had been much talk of a celebration that was to take place once Sera had finally seen herself fit to walk without the aid of another. After waking up, her stubbornness had her out of bed and walking within the week. It had been a great surprise to everyone when they found the bed in the medical bay vacant and the sheets folded neatly on the end of the mattress. Even more so when Sera left the Paladins’ quarters in a pair of old-world military trousers and combat boots coupled with a t-shirt and her holotags. Her hair was pulled into a bun, tied neatly in place with a thin boot lace that she’d removed from Danse’s abandoned personal items. That had been three days ago.

‘To the victor go the spoils,’ Maxson had said when he bequeathed all of the Paladin’s items to Nora. He’d said the same to Sera when he told her he’d decided to give her Nora’s items… and grant her the rank of Sentinel for uncovering Nora’s betrayal before she could destroy the Brotherhood. But Sera didn’t feel victorious. She felt like she was no longer welcome. Otherwise, she’d decided that the feeling within her was emptiness and regret. Not for killing Nora or helping the Brotherhood blow up the Institute – no; she felt regret for the FEV. For telling Maxson the truth when she knew how he felt about all things related to the FEV and ghouls alike. She regretted that she would have to circumvent her own emotions just to feel whole in some fashion. It no longer felt like the Brotherhood of Steel was her home. Just like her run with the gangs in the Mojave and her time spent with the Lone Wanderer in the Capital Wasteland, her time here had come to a close. Her mission was done. It was about time for a new adventure; a chance to see what the Commonwealth really was. To flesh out the new Commonwealth of Massachusetts.

But that would have to wait. She had promised a friend a dance.

Far be it from Sera to turn down an invitation to enjoy the finer side of celebrative drunkenness. When Haylen had asked her if she’d be willing to attend a party at the airport, Sera had half a mind to tell her that she didn’t want to go. However, she simply agreed to show up on time and begrudgingly accepted a dress that she didn’t truly feel like wearing but would for the sake of appearances. It was blue; such a strange and ironic color. The sleeves wrapped around the sides of her shoulders, accentuating her collar bone and showing off a good bit of skin – and cleavage. That part was much less appealing to her than the dress itself; she wasn’t usually the most incredibly modest type, hell, she wore a body suit that left little to the imagination. But she didn’t like showing skin. No, she liked everything to be covered and mostly safe from lingering gazes. But this… this dress showed off her bruises and the ugly color across her chest. Those that were on her face had faded after several more doses of med-x and a lot of work on Cade’s part to get a little bit of real color back into her cheeks. When she’d finally worked up the bravery to finally put the dress on and put her hair up pin-up girl style, she saw a whole other person in the mirror. Someone who hadn’t just been through hell.

“Carter, hurry up,” came Haylen’s voice on the other side of the door, startling her slightly. She was sure she heard them coming, but she’d been so lost in thought that it didn’t quite register.

Quickly and quietly, she discarded of her uniform, tucking it into the empty footlocker at the end of the bed. That was one thing that she certainly wouldn’t miss. With a final long look at the duffel bag that sat waiting for her on the mattress, she heaved a slow sigh and vacated the room to join the party that awaited her.

* * *

The effort put in by the Brotherhood to make a substantial party had been greater than Sera could have expected. Lights had been strung across the space, illuminating a row of tables all filled with various bottles of assorted liquor. One table had been dedicated to cigarettes and boxes of snack cakes. The sound of Diamond City radio filled the whole space; the Prydwen’s intercom system served as a makeshift stereo for all of the partygoers that danced across newly-placed rubber mats, which covered the concrete in its entirety.

The sound of laughter accompanied drinks clashing together, an accord akin to a celebratory toast. The sheer number of Brotherhood soldiers that had attended astounded Sera; she hadn’t expected so many people. She also didn’t know that so many articles of clothing had survived the war. Everyone that surrounded her had dressed themselves in civilian clothing in one form or other. Some wore slacks and faded, tucked-in button downs while others had managed to hunt down tuxedoes and dresses. Even Haylen had found a dress for herself; a sequined red dress that reached her thighs with a low neckline and enough sparkle to blind a man. But the dress suited her, and it was no surprise when Rhys asked her to dance to the vivacious crooning of Big Maybelle.

Sera had opted to sit in a chair in a poorly-lit corner, sipping lazily from a glass of whiskey. Her languid behavior had been residual of her mood; she didn’t particularly feel like doing much of anything. Her mission was this: partake in the festivities, enjoy the music, drink the booze, and avoid social contact if at all possible. If she was lucky, she wouldn’t even be noticed in her little corner of heaven. She was pleased to just watch while everyone danced, cajoling each other into their arms and carrying on as the music guided them through the paces of surprisingly good dancing. It wasn’t the same as pre-war dancing, at least, not for the most part. It was a bit smoother, more natural. Nothing planned, just done. They still spun and swung like people did before the bombs fell, but they somehow managed to do it with more style. She had to admit; she preferred it this way. She liked how people sought natural motion rather than planned steps.

From across the way, eye-contact was established. Sera tensed instantly when steely grey eyes met her own. God, it felt so strange. Like he was looking straight into her soul. She squirmed awkwardly in her seat and broke the gaze as quickly as it had been made, sipping quickly from her glass. But it was too late, he’d seen her and started to cross the dancefloor to approach her seat with what almost looked like it was the scowl equivalent to a smile. His gaze was softer, less prone to feeling like daggers, and he moved with more fluidity than his usual stiff motion. Could it be that for once he was actually – dare she think – relaxed? Not to mention… he wasn’t wearing his battle coat. Nor was he wearing a uniform or his gloves. He’d taken the time to reign in his hair and comb it back, and at some point, had put on a suit. She grimaced when she saw his new look. It reminded her quite a bit of someone… different.

He looked like Danse.

“Elder,” she said in greeting.

“Pala- I mean, Sentinel,” he replied, reaching for a nearby chair to drag it beside hers. He sat, arms crossed. “You aren’t dancing.”

Sera shrugged her shoulders as she took another sip from her glass. “I’m not really feeling in the dancing mood. I’m more in the ‘drink till I can’t see straight’ kind of mood, you know?”

She’d almost forgotten that they were officially off-duty for the evening. The tension in her shoulders ebbed a bit, replaced only with the weight of her own thoughts. Her eyes followed the movement of countless soldiers, halted only when she saw Rhys and Haylen laughing like teenagers. It made her happy to see Haylen finding some kind of fun in things; the world hadn’t been kind to either of them. Rhys had started to whisper sweet little nothings into her ear when Haylen caught Sera’s gaze and the two exchanged devious glances. Until, at least, Haylen looked between Sera and Maxson with a brow raised. The interaction stopped there. Sera downed the rest of her drink and set the glass down on the ground at the foot of her chair, then stood.

“I think I’m gonna go see what all kind of foods they managed to scrounge up that doesn’t taste like mole-rat shit.”

She had said it, but she didn’t get the chance to make good on it. Haylen had, at some point, left Rhys to wait for her at the edge of the dancefloor so that she could assault Sera with a bear hug. “You look so good, Carter. God, I didn’t realize that the dress would actually fit!” She grinned, stepping back to give Sera a quick once-over. “Blue suits you surprisingly well, don’t you think?”

Sera groaned softly as she wriggled out of Haylen’s arms. “Tonight, I’m just Sera, okay?” she grunted softly before adjusting her dress. “And yeah… I suppose I don’t look too much like a prostitute.”

“A what?”

“Nothing,” she mumbled, shaking her head dismissively. “So, uh… what’s up with you and Rhys?”

Haylen snickered and crossed her arms lazily, glancing across at the knight. He’d gathered into a pack of other knights, sharing a toast with his comrades. “I convinced him to dance since he’s got that stick up his butt all the time. I have to admit, it’s nice to see him let loose like this. Ever since joining up, he’s always been stiff as a board. I guess now he’s cutting some of the tension. What about you?” she asked suddenly, glancing across at Maxson. “He got all nice and dressed up; are you going to dance with him tonight?”

She had found no restraint and didn’t even try to hide her discomfort; Sera groaned again and pressed her face into the palm of her hand with her elbow cupped in the other. “I don’t uh… I’m not in the mood to dance – ”

The chance to finish her sentence was lost. Haylen dragged her out onto the dancefloor just as The Five Stars graced the air with the lyrics to ‘Atom Bomb Baby’. Sera hated being forced into situations, but Haylen seemed so excited that she allowed herself to be dragged mercilessly into the throng of people. She humored the other woman, flying into step when the tempo picked up. Haylen grinned like a fool; Sera could see the joy in her eyes when she finally fell in line with her. Before she knew it, she was grinning too. Haylen spun her in a neat circle, the height difference accentuated by how easily Sera fit beneath her arm. As much as she hated to admit it, it was pleasant to let the tune carry her and her dance partner across the floor. Several times, people had to move out of their way, but they showed no signs of complaint.

When the song came to its close, Haylen was a wild mess of grins and giggles as herself and Sera wandered towards the ‘bar’. Both of them took new glasses and filled them to the brim with two hundred-year-old vodka. They toasted to the good times and those to come. In the back of her mind, Sera was telling herself that the ones that lay in her future weren’t with the Brotherhood. To Haylen, she said, “And to wherever the road takes us!” She could drink to that. Apparently, so could Haylen. Their glasses touched with a satisfying ring, then both downed their shots in quick flicks of their wrists. The flavor was a welcome one, but the lingering aftertaste made Sera gag. Haylen just laughed and clapped a hand over her back.

“That’s the spirit, Sera!”

“Blech,” Sera responded with a frown. “Definitely tastes… old.”

Haylen burst into a fit of laughter as she poured another drink for the two… as well as a third. “And to Elder Maxson, the king of the hill and the angry face,” she said with a flourish, accidentally spilling a bit of the vodka that she had poured into the glass. Sera sighed softly; she could feel his presence before he’d even joined them.

“To Elder Maxson,” she declared as she accepted a glass from Haylen, sniggering like a scheming teenager. “And to all the angry faces in the future.”

Maxson took his shot with a huff, clapping his glass with theirs. Sera giggled once she’d stomached the shot that she’d taken, setting her shot glass down near the bottle so that she could stretch her arms up into the air. She was letting out a very forced groan as she stretched her muscles. In her mind, one thought played over and over like a broken record. _One dance with Maxson before departure One last goodbye_. She smiled at him; this was one of those rare genuine smiles that played across her face when she was playing poker in the mess hall. One of those looks that said ‘I’m gonna win and you can’t stop me’. There wasn’t a competition, but it was a smile she’d reserved just for him. He took it as a challenge. He always did. He cleared his throat and extended a hand.

“I’m not much of a dancer,” he said gruffly, “but would you give me the pleasure of my first dance of the evening?”

Sera placed her hand in his, and with one last look back at Haylen, allowed him to escort her onto the dance floor. He was about as good a dancer as she thought he was. His footwork was somewhat disappointing and he lacked any kind of grace. While she had to admit that the other knights were just about as gifted as he was, a lot of them had found some kind of pace and fluidity. Maxson couldn’t even set an even pace without Sera guiding him like a puppy. She allowed herself a soft snicker when he stumbled, but cursed like a sailor when he stepped on her feet. But all in all, she let herself have the moment.

She could feel him tense when the dance came to an end. The redhead elicited a soft sigh as she slipped her arms around his neck; she knew what was coming next. A slow dance, much simpler than the fancy footwork they had done before. Frankie Carle took point as the song of the minute as couples around them took one another hand in hand and relaxed into a gentle sway. Sera, for fear of having her feet stepped on again, instead kicked off her shoes and stood on the tops of Maxson’s boots. “Just sway,” she mumbled softly, resting her forehead against his collarbone. She noticed several things: he showered, his beard was trimmed, and that in such a state of surrender, he was more akin to a teddy bear than the ruthless asshole that everyone had gotten to see him as. She couldn’t tell if she liked it or if she found it uncomfortable. But it was enough to her that he did as he was told, arms wrapped around her as he lazily swayed in place. She could feel his feet shift beneath her own ever so often.

She lifted her head to look up at him and their gazes met. She tensed within an instant, her body rigid against his. He was staring at her, his grip around her waist a bit tighter than she thought was necessary. She couldn’t help herself. Slowly, she tip-toed and let her weight settle entirely upon his feet. When he showed no signs of discomfort, she tilted her head back a bit more. Their lips met. For the slightest shiver of a moment, there was a somewhat comforting sensation… but then it faded.

There was no spark. No explosion of joy or revelation of deep-embedded feelings. It was a kiss, but it felt incredibly detached and just _wrong_. Whatever it was, it wasn’t meant to be. Perhaps it was just because of the things that had transpired over the past few weeks. Perhaps the trauma was more intense than she thought. Or maybe she just didn’t feel the love she thought she felt. Respect? Certainly. Intense friendship was more a match than romantic love. It felt so forced. After everything that had happened, Sera’s feelings were far-gone and somewhat irredeemable. She was making herself be civil and keep the peace, but her heart was in a different place. She pulled away from him within a heartbeat and cleared her throat, brushing down the fabric of her dress.

“I think I’m going to call it a night,” she said with a sheepish smile. When he reached out to grasp her hand, she didn’t stop him. Instead, she squeezed it with an unexpected tenderness. She knew that the time had come. “Goodnight, Arthur.” Her words were quiet and sincere, almost sad.

He saw it in her eyes. The strained abandonment she felt. The sadness and the detachment. It was all there, right in front of him. He knew what was coming, but he wasn’t sure if he was truly prepared for it. Somehow, some way, she’d slipped past his defenses and broken the front lines of guard that protected him from whatever feelings he felt. Somehow, some way, she’d conjured emotions that he now realized were either unrequited or had been at one point… but were now gone. He didn’t want to watch her leave. It pained him to see her go. But as she boarded the vertibird outside of the airport to take the quick trip to the Prydwen, something within him knew… she wasn’t coming back.

_‘And then tomorrow I’ll beg for one more tomorrow with you.’_


	10. Neon Lights

_Emily,_

_I know what you’re thinking. No, I wasn’t kidnapped. I haven’t disappeared without a trace. Maybe you’ll see me again some time when you’re out in the field. I know, I know. The Prydwen is my home. The Brotherhood is my family. I know what you’d say. I know that this probably feels very sudden. And yes, you’re right. It’s sudden and unexplained, but here’s all I can say to ease your mind._

_My ride with the Brotherhood was a beautiful one. I found a life with all of the soldiers there and I fell in love with my job. I was great at what I did. But my time in the Institute… it gave me a new kind of perspective. I surrendered to relying on someone else to saving me. I can’t ever let that happen again. That aside, I feel like things have changed. I’ve revealed some truths about myself that are condemnable with death. I’ve let myself become the one thing that the Brotherhood hates more than synths. And look, I didn’t lie. I just never told. I’ve replayed it in my mind a thousand times. How I would tell you that I was leaving, how I’d announce to everyone that I wanted to resign. Right after getting the rank of Sentinel. Who knew, right?_

_It doesn’t make sense to you, does it? How someone that was so dedicated had to leave like this. The explanation is simple as breathing: I had to leave because I couldn’t bear being a fraud any longer. You all deserve better. And… the chance to find something new out there to dedicate myself to is pretty good. I helped the Brotherhood achieve greatness; now it’s time to make a name for myself… outside of the ranks._

_There have been beautiful things in the Brotherhood for me. Not just the friends and the work, but the personal exploration. I found things about myself that I never knew and I can’t begin to thank you all. I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am and how much I love all of you. But a chapter in my life is over. It’s time to find a new love. And pardon me if it’s crossing a line when I say it… but I think it’s time for you to find some love too. Real love. Not job love. Rhys cares about you. Don’t shoot the messenger though._

_Be safe. I’ll see you in the field, soldier. Ad victoriam._

* * *

When she’d handed Maxson her letter of resignation, he said nothing; he nodded and rested a hand on her shoulder for a long minute. But he let her go with an uncharacteristic hug and a hushed goodbye. When she left the letter and her holotags for Haylen on her table and gathered her things, she registered the feeling of closure settling over her. She’d had her fun and lived out the ride, but it was over. When the vertibird took her down into the ruins of the Old North Church, she’d only given the pilot a short nod before she leaped from the edge. She slung her bag over her shoulder, and with an automatic rifle in hand and her duffle on her back, she headed southwest. It was a bittersweet moment when she watched the vertibird turn in the opposite direction.

Sera had been set on her goal: find Diamond City and make a few friends. Things didn’t go as planned. Every time she felt like she made some kind of progress, she was forced to take two steps back to make space for another wrench in the works. She had to make room for the drawbacks and the distractions, not to mention the annoyances and the delays.

At the end of her first day, Sera was slogging through pouring rain with a newsboy cap pulled over her head, each strand of crimson hair tucked beneath the headband that kept it on. Topping her hat was a hood that she’d bought from a caravan runner named Cricket and her motley crew. She was dressed in a fashion that would provide the look of someone who was inconspicuous. Could handle herself in a fight, but wasn’t anything special. This look included sunglasses, a bandanna wrapped around the lower half of her face (nose included), a set of road leathers, and armor stolen off the body of a raider that she’d ‘taken care of’ when she happened to stumble across a small band at the doorstep of the Haymarket Mall. She’d just gone in to look for food and supplies; she dared not take anything from the Brotherhood that she hadn’t bought with her own caps. Speaking of caps, her stash had been a bit over two thousand. She could buy a meal and pay for housing, should she find someone willing to rent out to her.

At dusk, she took shelter from the rain within the confines of the Old Corner Bookstore. There was a chore to be made of finding a safe spot to sleep where the second story floor didn’t threaten to fall on top of her while she slept, but she eventually managed to lay out her bedroll on a couch that resided against the junction where the stairs turned. From her pocket, she withdrew a packet of bubblegum and searched the building for whatever surviving books had been left behind. She found a copy of Alice in Wonderland, three Grognak the Barbarian comics, and a box of Fancy Lad Snack Cakes. Upstairs, she found a first aid box with stimpaks and purified water. In her book, she was set for the evening. She pushed a bookshelf in front of the door; no raider would make enough of an effort to actually open something that was weighed down. When she finally settled in to read and sleep, she felt somewhat at ease.

The morning of her second day hadn’t been much better than the evening of her first. She set out early; the sun hadn’t even risen yet when she rolled up her sleeping bag and stuffed it into her duffle bag. It was on to the next building to search for whatever resources she could recover before heading south to chase a rumor. The entirety of the rumor had been built on the words of caravan guards and traders; Diamond City was closer than she had thought and it was just a few miles down the road. The rumor was wrong.

Her footsteps were quiet as she tiptoed carefully over broken glass and scrap metal. She could hear the super mutants yelling around the corner and exchanging harsh comments about one another. Their stupidity was almost overshadowed by their sheer willpower and asinine belief in the ‘superiority’ of super mutants. Unlike the rest of the Brotherhood, Sera didn’t find super mutants or ghouls inherently bad. She saw that they were different, but she didn’t see them as the disgusting creatures that the Brotherhood of Steel made them out to be. For that reason, she was hesitant to actually engage in combat with the beasts. At least not until she heard the unmistakable beep-beep-beep of a super mutant suicider’s mini nuke.

She took slow, even breaths, back pressed flat against the metal walls of the building that served as her cover. She hated how quickly she had to reload; her only option was to do so while the super mutants were making an incredible amount of noise. But they were also lazy things; the times that they were actually up doing anything were in the moments that they spent searching for the source of any noise they heard that was outside of their circle. Sera thought it was funny; super mutants ran in the same fashion as raiders. The only difference was that they were taller and dumber. They were greener too, obviously. It took her throwing a piece of mirelurk meat across the area towards a mutant hound to finally get the super mutants to make some kind of noise. They started jeering as two hounds went at it, fighting over the meat like starved wolves. That was her chance. She slapped a new clip into the rifle and leaned out from cover, firing off a spray of bullets. One head exploded, then three new shouts erupted from the mutants. They were actively looking for her now.

Sera heaved a deep breath as she forced herself to push away from the wall. She ran down the alley way, her footsteps light and measured so that she didn’t slip in the mud. Her boots slapped against the sludge, producing enough noise to give the mutants a good path to follow. She could hear it again; that beep-beep-beep was incredibly, unnervingly close to her. But she was faster, she was stronger, she was smarter. Sera twisted around and quickly took aim. Then boom. A burst of three bullets, and a free mini-nuke was at her disposal. She took it up into her hand and ran back towards the camp at top speed. She ran straight past it into the alley across from her, but not without throwing the nuke into what remained of the group of mutants. It exploded with a great blast of radiation, throwing dirt and debris up and down the street, as well as limbs and organs from what was left of the mutants. Sera almost gagged when a slap of meat slapped the wall across from her. It stuck there until gravity peeled it away like a banana’s outer skin.

“Gross,” she mumbled softly while she dipped out into the street to see if any mutants remained. When she found none, she stepped out into the open with a slow hum. Observant as always, the first thing she noticed was their refuge. They lived in a dilapidated store that they had stored a plethora of weaponry within. However, she could only carry so much and opted for ammunition and smaller guns over the rocket launcher that sat abandoned in the corner. She made a mental note, however, to hide it. She’d be back to retrieve the weapon eventually; she could sell it for at least two-hundred caps. The real messy work was when she started digging through meat sacks to search for more loot. It was gross, but when caps are on the line, there’s never a way to go that’s too far. One particular bag was less well-made than the others and snapped open, bathing Sera in a barrage of disassembled limbs, bits of meat, and clumps of mutilated flesh. Sera screeched as she danced away, shaking what she could off of her clothing and slapping away what she couldn’t. “Oh god…”

Blood, mud, and an assortment of brand-new armor pieces became Sera’s new attire. Far be it from her to complain about her situation, but she smelled like she’d taken a swim in a drainage pipe full of rotten meat. One might imagine how some circles might find such a quality unattractive. If Sera wished to find a new lot to throw in with, she couldn’t do it smelling like a sewer. With her duffel bag stuffed to the brim with whatever she could carry, Sera set off once again, sights set on the steady glow of lights in the distance.

And then she saw it. Glowing neons promising refuge; they were bright and welcoming, offering some kind of sanctity from the dangers of the outside. Whether it was a raider hang-out like the Combat Zone or a piss-poor settlement that was overflowing with puny farmers, Sera didn’t care. If she threw in with raiders, then she threw in. Farmers? She could stand to learn how to grow mutfruit. She stared at those letters for a long time; discretion was a good way to survive in the Commonwealth. What if these people were trying to lure in innocent people? She readied her weapon and prepared her for any resistance that she’d face once she entered. With that, she surrendered only one hand to push open the gates to enter Goodneighbor.

* * *

Fahrenheit decided immediately that she didn’t like the look of Goodneighbor’s newest visitor. Daisy had been entertaining her with idle chatter when the door swung open and a blood-soaked, ragged being stumbled in with a full pack on their back and a gun clenched in gloved hands. It was difficult if not impossible to discern a gender, but Fahrenheit was sure that whoever the person had been, they must have been trouble. She shared a glance with the shopkeeper, who simply withdrew a rag and began to wipe down her counters. Even if the person was trouble, both knew that themselves and KL-E-0 would handle the problem without even the slightest bit of difficulty. She had half a mind to slip into the street and drag Hancock away from the citizen he spoke to, if only to bring his attention to the situation.

The trouble started faster than she originally thought. Fresh into the gate, and Finn had already approached demanding caps as ‘insurance’. The person didn’t so much as fidget as they raised their rifle and pressed the suppressor at the end of the barrel against this forehead. They didn’t demand him to back off or pay what he asked, they simply made a very real threat that Fahrenheit was sure they would have carried out with, had Finn not stepped away with his hands in the air. “Hey now, no need to get violent. Just trying to make a living,” he said with a sheepish chuckle. The other person didn’t move an inch, safe for the turn of their head when he moved to the side to go deeper into the innards of Goodneighbor. Fahrenheit swore that she saw him shit his pants and didn’t fight the satisfied smirk that twisted her lips. Maybe this person wasn’t too bad.

* * *

Sera had fairly quickly decided that no, she didn’t like Finn. She didn’t shoot him, of course. Her goal was to make him uncomfortable, and it was highly obvious that she’ succeeded. He backed off, feigning innocence, but Sera dared not lower her weapon until her was more than five feet away from her. She’d kept him alive on the premise that killing a man on the first day of playing ‘new girl’ probably wasn’t the best way to make a good first impression. However, showing your chops? That was acceptable.

“Woah, woah, woah, time out.” The voice was unmistakably ghoul and belonged to the man that stood in the shadows, deep in discussion with one of the good people of Goodneighbor before the commotion had started. Sera rested her weight on one leg and pressed a hand to her hip, allowing her rifle arm to go slack while she examined his gait. He walked with the confidence of a smooth-skin and she found it quite endearing. Perhaps even pleasant. “Someone steps through the gate the first time, they’re a guest. You lay off that extortion crap.”

Finn shot him an incredulous glare and twisted in place, offering a show of what he thought to be superiority. “What do you care? He ain’t one of us.”

“No love for your mayor, Finn?” the ghoul had asked. His tone was strangely fun-loving, but Sera could hear the underlying dissociative disappointment that usually came with dealing with troublemakers that stepped outside of their boundaries. “I said let him go.”

Sera shifted in place as she watched the exchange. It was a curious occurrence; the person called Finn acted like a raider and interacted with the others like raiders did, but the man in red was far more welcoming and seemed much less prone to demanding money from strangers. That certainly didn’t stop him from pulling a knife on Finn when he was displaying an innocent show of friendly interaction. As Sera observed, her brows knit together. It was strange to see this kind of thing. It was obviously a very balanced non-verbal agreement shared between the people of the town. Don’t cause trouble and you won’t have trouble. A simple glance offered evidence that all walks of life had come from hither and yon to visit or make a life in Goodneighbor. The thought provided reassurance that she wouldn’t be bothered to divulge too much information.

“Name’s Hancock. I’m the mayor around here,” The ghoul said as he approached her, that same confident swing to his step. “You alright?”

Sera bit the inside of her cheek and frowned as she looked him over. She knew her gaze was judgmental, though she tried her best for it not to be. Inwardly thanking her sunglasses for providing cover, she nodded. She quickly glanced at Finn’s body for a moment before she approached the corpse and fished whatever caps he had out of his pocket.

“To the living go the spoils,” Hancock mumbled softly.

She straightened and tugged at the bandanna around her mouth, exposing the pale flesh of her face when she pulled it beneath her chin. “I’m perfectly fine, thank you,” she replied coolly as she stuffed the caps into one of the many pouches strapped to her thighs and circled around the body. “And if there are to be introductions, you can call me Red.”

The redhead that Sera had noted in the first shop had pushed away from Daisy’s counter to stand behind Hancock. She quickly assessed the situation as a tactician would; the woman took a defensive stance behind the mayor with her minigun at the ready. A bodyguard if she ever saw one. She sized the other woman up with a painfully observant glare, but otherwise made not move against her. Sera didn’t even fidget under her Fahrenheit’s gaze when she did the same. By the way she reacted, Sera was well aware that the feeling of being less than intimidating to someone was new to her.

“Ah, so we have a lovely lady in our midst. Sorry for assuming otherwise," he said with a smooth chuckle. "I hope ol’ Finn here didn’t get a sour taste for our little community. He almost tried that little number last time a new face walked through here, but she had an old friend of mine with her at the time. We don’t usually let this kind of stuff fly. Goodneighbor is of the people, for the people. Ya feel me?”

Sera glanced at him through her sunglasses. The words she wanted to use had much more finesse to them than the ones she produced. “Oh brother,” she grunted softly, her tone exasperated and forced into something rougher than its normal sultry texture. It was in her best interests to keep herself off of the radar, and that meant sounding unappealing as possible on a friendly level. “I feel you.”

Hancock only chuckled and turned towards the State House. To one of the guards, he stopped off to drop a quick ‘clean this mess up for me’ before he turned to offer some last words of welcome. “If you need anything, just drop by and I’ll get you set up proper.”

“I’d actually like to know if there’s any place that I could stay for the night,” she replied as she hefted her bag over her shoulder to lug it down the street behind him.

“Hotel Rexford. I don’t suggest talking to Marowski, he’s about as polite as a super mutant. But Clair will fix you up right if you don’t ask too many questions and pay outright. It’s ten caps a night. If you don’t have that, just come on by and I’ll hook you up. We’ll drop the pay on an I.O.U.”

Sera nodded thanks and moved past Fahrenheit, who’s gaze was still burning through the back of her skull. No mind was paid to it though; Sera moved quickly to circumnavigate the building to the back. More neon lights with fancy lettering lit the walls behind them, but dimmed in comparison to the blinding light of the mid-day sun. In large, red lettering, ‘Hotel Rexford’ adorned the building at the end of the street. Several of the residents had dropped idle comments on her; ‘you should sell some of that to Daisy’ had been one of the ones that stuck with her the most. Daisy, she’d come to learn, was the ghoul working in the shop up front.

A quick glance around the lobby once she entered gave Sera solace; she liked knowing the people around her. A man in a newsboy cap and blue jacket was knee-deep in a chem deal, passing a syringe of jet and a box of mentats to a ghoul. Beyond that was a man in an indigo jumpsuit and a cap, leaning casually against one of the pillars. A middle-aged woman swept the floors to the left. None of the people within the lobby showed inherent signs of being dangerous; the chem dealer, whom she’d learned to be Fred Allen, was too high, the sweeper was too frail, and the jumpsuit wearer named Rufus was lacking in weaponry or impressive muscle mass. She reassured herself; she wouldn’t be killed in her sleep overnight. She quickly approached the counter and fished through her pockets to produce her caps. She silently dropped ten on the counter and passed a knowing look to the receptionist. No questions, no answers. The woman behind the counter, whom Sera could only speculate to be Clair, raised a brow but didn’t complain. She passed Sera a key to room ten.

“You make a mess, you clean it up. Don’t leave empty chem containers in the room or the hallways or you’ll be charged a service fee of five caps for clean-up,” the woman droned. “If you need anything beyond what the hotel provides for you, you’ll have to buy it elsewhere because we’re not a charity.” Sera nodded as she took the key. She didn’t mind Clair’s tone. She’d probably given those exact instructions every day to countless people for a long time.

Her room was less than ideal and, Sera had quickly decided, best left abandoned. Holes lined the peeling walls and the floorboards creaked with the threat of collapsing between every single step. She was careful to avoid the boards that covered large holes in the floor and she found herself dancing around the spots that seemed weakest in integrity. A single twin-sized bed was stuffed in the corner across from a couch and a desk. Boards covered the single window in the room, encasing her in a strangely comforting kind of darkness. With a heavy sigh, Sera tossed her bag onto the couch and crossed the room to collapse onto the mattress. It smelled of jet and vomit, but she didn’t mind. She’d certainly smelt worse. What was more concerning, was the way the ceiling had a crack running its length and the fan attached to it shook as it spun. And to add to her grievances, while it was certainly nice to have a dry place to stay that wasn’t an abandoned department store, she still wished that she had access to a shower. The most that the Hotel Rexford had to offer was a bowl of water on the bedside table and an empty mug with an old, broken toothbrush resting in it. They’d at least provided a bar of soap and a tube of toothpaste.

Painstakingly slowly, Sera peeled away layers of armor and clothing, periodically checking the walls to make sure that nobody was peeking through. As soon as she’d removed the majority of her attire, excepting her underwear, she began to wash away the blood and grime on her limbs and torso. It was only when she felt that she was sufficiently clean that she tugged on a clean set of road leathers and laid out her bedroll on the mattress. She’d kept the copy of Alice in Wonderland from the night before. Before she curled up for the evening, she fished it out of her bag and finally crashed on the bed, flipping through its pages until she found the dog-ear fold that marked her place.

The first line she read reminded her quite a bit of Goodneighbor already.

_We’re all mad here._


	11. The Big Dig

The afternoon brought on more rain. Puddles of water dotted the broken street outside and decorated the sidewalk with an unusual cleanliness. The soft pelting of water tapping on rooftops was a sort of lullaby, promising aid to those who grew crops and a free shower for those who couldn’t take one. The dull grey of the sky was somewhat comforting to many people. There was the occasional person, such as Sera, who found rain more relaxing than sunshine. Some people carried makeshift umbrellas, others erected tents to keep themselves out of the rain. Even the street bums had made themselves some kind of shelter from the downpour. Sera had simply tugged her cap and hood back on before she went outside.

Through the lenses of her sunglasses, everything seemed darker. But through the eyes that the FEV gave her, she saw perfectly fine as she crossed the street and made her way down to Daisy’s with her duffle bag in tow. She’d unloaded the things she decided to keep onto the desk in her room; her personal weaponry, clothing, food and medicine. The rest went back into the bag so Sera could haul it down to the shops to sell it. Her boots made tiny splashes in the soaked ground and though her face had reclaimed the bandanna, she smelled the rain and wet garbage. Truth be told, the place smelled like piss and throw-up, not much better than she had that morning. The tolerance of the residence of Goodneighbor dragged a bit of appreciation out of her.

When she arrived at Daisy’s shop, otherwise known as Daisy’s Discounts, she took a chance to really look her over. Daisy was actually easy on the eyes, in Sera’s opinion. She was well-built and petite, and even with a tattered suit and greying hair, quite the looker. Sera smiled, though Daisy couldn’t see it, as she placed her bag upon the counter and opened it up. Out came the chems, the random junk, and the weapons that she intended on selling. Daisy looked her over with a smile, but it didn’t seem genuine.

“Oh, a new face walks into my store. And you’re not even screaming yet,” she said, her tone somewhat guarded. “Very polite. You let me know if anything catches your fancy.”

Sera paused for a long moment to measure her words. She’d grown used to acting the way the Brotherhood did; shunning ghouls and treating them like they were less than dirt. It was a gross thing to do and not truly how she felt, but that didn’t stop her from letting them alienate her. It was all about acting like the locals if she wanted to fit in. Sera knew that she didn’t have to put up an act to be a part of Goodneighbor. But old habits die hard and she was trying her best to find the right words. To interact again.

“Now why would I scream at someone so pretty?” she said with an unseen grin, though the flirtatious cadence was still in her voice. One day without the Brotherhood and she was already acting more like… well, herself. She shivered when she realized just how much she’d changed to put on a nice face for the Brotherhood of Steel. For Maxson. Suddenly she felt more twisted inside than a veteran raider. “I’m just here to sell some things, love.”

Daisy smiled, this time a real and very yellowed smile as she fished a box of caps out from behind the counter. “Don’t go trying to flatter me out of caps now,” she said jokingly, “even ghouls gotta eat.”

First went the chems and random scraps of junk. Sera was surprised at how well Daisy priced the items; she had come with a bag of junk and left the shop with a bag of weapons, a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, and a new pouch of caps. Next it was to KL-E-0, the assaultron in the back of the next store. Her presence in the store seemed apropos; a living weapon selling weapons. Sera got a pleasant vibe from the robot; KL-E-0 was much more welcoming than she looked. Her personality suggested a mentality akin to a raider. She greeted Sera only by saying ‘murder and mayhem at a discount’. Sera dared not question the assaultron; she took the time to get a name and lay out her weapons to be sold. She left only with two pipe pistols in her bag, a new box of ammunition for her rifle, and plenty of caps to add to her stash. The pistols, she gave to stragglers on the street.

Back in her room, she had taken to the bed, flipping again through the pages of her book. She found that parts of the story were missing or otherwise burnt; there was no way she could read all the way through. Not that it mattered. Before the war, Sera had read plenty. She knew Alice in Wonderland by heart. Every single word had been a good part of her memory, a memory that was – in a word – flawless. She still missed the feeling of paper on her fingertips, the scents of fresh books that had just arrived at the library when she was a child. She recalled begging her parents for a copy of the books that interested her. They scrounged together whatever cash they could to buy her books. When she was older, Sera learned to appreciate the things her parents did for her. It took her a long time to understand that even surrendering five small dollars was a sacrifice for her parents, whom struggled to hold on to their house due to their low-wage jobs and three children.

Perhaps that’s why it was so easy or her to adjust to living life in the post-war mess that used to be America.

When she reached the end of in-tact pages, she sighed and snapped the book closed, only to discard it on the bedside table. There was little to do in the room that she took refuge in; she knew that she had to do something. Anything, really. So, she elected to explore Goodneighbor.

She didn’t know how it happened. After a quick look around the Third Rail and a drink from a Mr. Handy named Whitechapel Charlie, she’d ended up investigating the back room where a couple of Gunners were grinding out threats towards a gangly man with rotten teeth and bullets strapped to every part of his body. Sera watched in amusement as the other man joked his way around their words and skirted around the lines that they were obviously laying down for him. After what seemed like a lifetime, they left and she ended up hiring him. His name was MacCready, a snippy mercenary that had a knack for being short and to the point. Sera liked his straight-forwardness; it meant that there wouldn’t be a problem with figuring out what kind of person he was. Afterwards, the two ordered beers and headed outside. MacCready told her about a woman named Bobbi No-Nose that was apparently offering work.

That’s probably how she ended up in an alleyway talking to a ghoul through a door-slot. This ghoul had promised her caps in trade for whatever effort she wanted the duo to put forth. Sera could tell by the shady manner in which the ghoul interacted with her that there was something unscrupulous afoot. Mercenary work always was, it seemed.

Sera and MacCready stood beneath the awning to the Memory Den to avoid the rain, both working at finishing their bottles of Gwennet Stout before heading out. Sera had plucked one of the cigarettes from the fresh pack she’d just bought. She hadn’t smoked in a very long time; more than seventy years, to be exact. But even as she took a slow drag from the ancient item, a comforting familiarity came with the flavor of smoke and tobacco. Her favorite part about this particular brand, which Daisy charged extra for, was that they were pure tobacco, rolled like small cigars but in leafy paper skins that tasted like cinnamon. Smoke curled around her when she exhaled and she let the cloud evaporate before resting the butt between her lips again.

“So, what do you think about this job with No-Nose, Mac?” she asked between drags.

He shook his head and took a lazy swig from his beer. “Not my place to say, boss. But if you’re giving me the freedom of opinion, I think that caps are caps. Especially the way you managed to finesse two-fifty from her. If she’s willing to pay that much up front, then there must be something big waiting for us at the finish line.”

Sera nodded in agreement and flicked some ashes off of the cigarette; she’d already smoked half-way through it and the cherry was dying in the moisture around her. It was the incentive she needed to flick the butt to the ground and grind it into the concrete with her boot before she pulled the bandanna back over her face to hide her features from the world all over again. “Let’s get going then. I’d like to be back in time for dinner,” she joked as she turned towards the Hotel Rexford to go retrieve her gun and ammo. MacCready seemed hesitant to follow until she called out to him. “You coming?”

* * *

When Sera walked into Diamond City to retrieve Mel on Bobbi’s request, she’d been grateful that none of the Brotherhood of Steel soldiers had noticed her or even recognized her if they had. However, she knew that there was one resident that deserved to know what had happened. The reporter that Nora had befriended before going into the Institute took residency in the city, if Sera remembered correctly. It took her a while to work up the nerve to approach her and ask her if they could speak. When she said the ex-Paladin’s name, Piper went into a flurry of questions, all headed by the one that Sera dreaded most.

_‘Where’s Nora?’_

Sera hadn’t known what to tell her. In the safety of the Publick Occurrences office, Sera pulled her aside and laid out what had happened between Nora and the Brotherhood in shirked detail. She’d learned that the woman’s name was Piper Wright, the owner of the newspaper. She’d also learned what all had happened in Nora’s absence. She learned about the Minutemen and the settlements, about everything that Preston Garvey had achieved with the Castle in their possession. In turn, she gave Piper every dripping detail about the Institute, save for her personal experience. She had to stop when she began having violent flashbacks and she got dizzy. Her breathing had become labored and her skin was intensely feverish. MacCready thought that Piper had done something to her, but Doc Sun knew better and gave her a can of cold purified water to ‘wash the trauma down’. The conversation closed with Sera giving Piper permission to publish the story about the Institute in her newspaper.

Once Mel was successfully out of lock-up, Sera and MacCready followed him out the front gates. The trio left Diamond City altogether, and if Sera had her way, she wouldn’t have to go back for a long time.

That’s when Bobbi put her at the forefront of their little party of misfits when they finally met up with her and Mel in the underground tunnels of Goodneighbor.

Sera never did like mirelurks. They smelled like rotten fish and mildew, and felt like moldy rocks. She had to admit that they tasted better after mutating from their original tiny forms, but she still despised them. Even more so when she had to blast through hordes of them to get through the tunnels that Sonya had created for them. Her body and senses were focused on her mission, but her mind was elsewhere, lingering on the things she’d told Piper. She felt like her body itself was colder because of it.

“Boss, you good?” MacCready asked, resting a hand on her shoulder. She offered him a long look and shook her head before moving forward past a multitude of mutilated ghoul corpses.

Her rifle was hot from firing so many rounds; a glowing one lay dead at her feet. She heaved a slow, steadying breath before stepping over the beast’s corpse towards the back corner where an exposed bit of softer sediment offered itself up to her. “Get Sonya over here,” she said quickly before stepping into a room adjacent to search through the boxes she found here. Behind her, she heard the pulse that Sonya emitted, followed by the unmistakable slide of dirt and rocks. She’d expected more ghouls or mirelurks, but what she found was a surprisingly empty room, save for a skeleton that had taken refuge within. Sera collected the carton of dirty water and a small box of bobby pins from the body, slipping them into her pack.

Mel approached her quietly, tapping on her shoulder. Had she not heard him coming, she would have attacked him in an instant. But she simply turned and stared at him. “If Bobby’s directions are correct, and I have my doubts, the strongroom should be right through there,” he said, pointing at what she had discerned to be one of the weak spots that Sonya drilled through.

Sher raised a brow as she unconsciously withdrew a cigarette from the pack and lit it. The flame from her lighter illuminated the pallor of her skin as she pulled her bandanna down beneath her chin to take a slow drag. “Doubts?” Hesitance presented itself as he watched her, somewhat entranced by the luminescence of her skin. But Sera stared through the sunglasses with the cigarette pinched between two fingers. The smoke lingered between them for a spell, only moved when Mel expelled a soft breath. Sera was inwardly smiling; she hadn’t lost her seductive touch at least. More accurately, her subtle allure and good looks. Sera couldn’t help herself from calling him on his distraction. “Well? You gonna answer or are you just gonna stand there gawking like a fool?”

“Diamond City is further north than this,” he said quickly, clearing his throat. “At least if I’m right it is.”

Sera spared a quick glance at Bobbi before she turned to Mel full-frontal. “Just blast a hole in the damn wall and let’s be done with it.” She took one more drag from her cigarette before taking a breath of real air. “Please,” she added, simply for good measure.

He didn’t dare question her. Instead, he directed Sonya to the wall. All four of them waited patiently while the robot emitted another pulse, shaking the earth and enticing another truckload of dirt to slide to the ground in a smooth heap. Sera was the first to step through the hole and the most immediate thing she heard was a less-than-appealing squish of mud beneath her feet. Water pooled in the floor, surrounding what seemed to be pipelines. She glanced back at Mel and Bobbi as they entered behind her, followed by MacCready.

“Well shit. Now my socks are wet,” Bobbi said with a chuckle. “Well guys, this is it. We’re right under the Diamond City strongroom.”

“You’re sure this is the right place? I’ve been mapping it out, and I think Diamond City should be a little further north of here,” Mel quipped, his head tilted slightly to the side.

Sera flicked out her cigarette and listened to the soft ‘hiss’ of its burning end hitting the water, ignoring the bullshit excuse that Bobbi was trying her damnedest to drop. “Tell us the truth, No-Nose,” she said with a sigh. Her patience with Bobbi was growing incredibly thin at an alarming rate. “Where the hell are we?”

“Under the Diamond City strongroom,” she said. Sera could hear the irritation in her tone. “And that’s the last time I’m saying it.” She paused for a moment as she gazed around the surrounding room. A slow, rough huff left her. “We still need a way to get up there though. Mel, do you think your robot will work here?”

Mel was hesitant for a short moment before he replied with a cheeky smile. “Look at this place. The foundation is already crumbling. One blast from Sonya and I bet the floor above will come right down. But you won’t wanna be in the room for this,” he said, waving everyone towards the other room so that he could herd them out. “Collapsing foundation isn’t too easy on one’s figure.”

All of them took shelter in the safety of the other room. Sonya alone remained, and when Mel gave the word, a loud rumble shook the earth. The crunch of metal echoed from within, prompting both Mel and Bobbi to rush inside the room to see what had happened. Sera’s re-entry was much slower than Bobbi’s. By the time she made it into the room, they were already climbing a concrete incline into the floor above. She followed behind, but not without checking one last time to make sure that nothing dangerous had followed them.

When she pushed open the metal door that awaited within, she tensed instantly. They were in a warehouse surrounded by broken train cars and assorted cargo boxes, the scents of smoke and the familiar sting of fallout in the air. A catwalk extended above the mess of disorganized containers, stretching over the train and around the edges of the building. Front and center on said catwalk was a very familiar face that Sera was less than excited to see. Fahrenheit leaned against a crate, glaring down at Bobbi from her pedestal. At her feet was her minigun, which seemed more like a threat than the expression on the redhead’s face did. Sera turned to glare at Bobbi, and slung her rifle over her shoulder, slowly drawing her pistol so that she could push a new clip into it and load a bullet into the chamber with a very subtle cock of the gun.

“Why the hell is she here, Bobbi?” she asked, her voice grating and rough from breathing in so much thick fallout from material storage barrels that lay in the corner. She sounded almost like a ghoul.

However, Sera’s words didn’t quite reach Bobbi. Fahrenheit had her attention. “You seriously thought that Hancock wouldn’t catch wind of your scheme? He took you _in_ , Bobbi. And you’re _stealing_ from him?”

“Don’t listen to her,” Bobbi said hurriedly, sparing a glance at Sera before looking back up to the catwalk’s inhabitants.

“Why would Hancock care if we’re stealing from Diamond City, Bobbi?” Sera asked with a predatory glare, lazily fingering the trigger once silence fell over them. Her words boiled with anger; she knew something was up. She knew exactly what was going on now that Fahrenheit had showed up, and she was livid. But she waited to see if Bobbi would tell the truth, fingers squeezing the grip of the butt of the pistol. She almost wished she hadn’t thrown out her smoke.

Bobbi pulled on what was almost a sheepish smile, looking between Sera and Mel, then at MacCready. “Yeah, about that…”

“I see the rest of you were in the dark about this,” Fahrenheit interjected, “Nice, No-Nose.” She sighed as her posture straightened and she took hold of her minigun, lifting it to rest its weight on her hip. “You all just broke into Hancock’s storeroom. You know. Hancock. The mayor of Goodneighbor.”

Bobbi opened her mouth to speak, but Sera stopped her with one hand, a finger extended to silence the woman. “Now… I appreciate a job. I do. But I’ve never much been a fan of liars, No-Nose,” she said. She sounded almost tired; the exasperation in her voice was intensified by the way she shook her head as she spoke. “I certainly prefer honesty when it comes to my profession, you see.” Sera accentuated her statement by flourishing the pistol in her hand as she spoke. “So, here’s what we’re gonna do. Either you can leave immediately – and stay out of Goodneighbor when you go – or I can put a hole between your eyes. Personally, I prefer the latter, but we’re in the presence of company.”

“I haven’t come this far to run away with my tail between my legs.”

Sera could see that she was taking a fighting stance. She shook her head in disappointment and sighed as she raised the pistol. Bobbi didn’t have time to react; with a single pop and the crunch of a body collapsing on itself, blood began to pool on the floor. “I hate liars,” Sera mumbled before fishing through Bobbi’s pockets for valuables. Her search turned up a small pouch of caps and a packet of cigarette skins. She found only a small fortune on Bobbi’s person; her best guess was that she already possessed the rest of the caps that Bobbi had. With that, she stood, glancing up at Fahrenheit as she tucked her newly claimed skins into her pocket. The redhead was smirking.

“You made the right choice,” she said with a snicker.

“Sorry about all that,” Sera replied sheepishly, glancing back at Mel. Without warning, she tossed the pouch of caps in his direction. “Your cut of the pay. Go home, Mel. You were in the same boat as I was, this isn’t your problem anymore. Get out of here.”

Fahrenheit barely glanced at Mel as he ran back into the tunnels. “The boss will understand. You didn’t know what you were doing,” she said idly before tossing the minigun down the Sera. She caught it with a grunt, but managed to hold its weight. “Here. For doing the right thing. You should go and pay your respects… in person.”

Sera popped a brow. “You don’t need this? It’s a long walk through Boston to get back.”

“I’ll just take the tunnel that you all so kindly dug,” Fahrenheit said idly as she turned to descend the stairs behind her. It wasn’t until she had rounded the railing and started walking towards the door behind Sera that she looked directly at her. “You know, trying to rob Diamond City in general takes balls. Kudos to you, Red.”

“I aim to please,” Sera replied with a smirk before turning to MacCready, who was digging ammunition out of Bobbi’s pockets. “Let’s hit the road. We owe Hancock a drink.”


	12. You're a Good Good Neighbor

In the back room of the Third Rail, smoke from burning tobacco and the crack of bottles hitting a table characterized the evening. A couch and coffee table had been moved inside, only because Sera had paid Whitechapel Charlie to let her take one down there when he started complaining about her dragging an enormous piece of furniture through his bar. With MacCready’s help, she’d carried it in from the basement of the Hotel Rexford, another unpleasant bill that Sera had to pay. Except bribing the living shit out of Charlie was much more pleasant than dealing with Marowski and the steep price he demanded in return for a ratty piece of unused furniture. The couch had quickly been occupied by three figures that had all happily propped their feet up on the table, all avoiding the ashtrays between them. The angry red lighting had been replaced with dim lanterns, also at Sera’s expense, though it took a lot of convincing and some buttering up in the form of money on her part. Every time Charlie started to complain, she tossed him another fifty caps. All that done without a single spoken word.

Sera found that she didn’t really talk much. She’d kept her sentences – when she spoke them – short and to the point, and she hadn’t bothered with normalcy in her voice; she’d forced herself into a rough tone, almost like she’d had a cold for the past two hundred years. The way she saw it, it would be more exciting to have a big reveal about the way her voice truly sounded; it made the game more fun to play. The same sort of ideal hung in the air about her looks; she didn’t want to stand out for any reason, but she liked the idea that there would, at some point, be a big reveal. On the other hand, she also wanted to eliminate more curiosity about her. If people believed she was a ghoul, or at least most people understood that she wanted to keep up the charade, then they wouldn’t pry about her appearance or why she hid it so often. Perhaps human – or even inhuman, in the case of ghouls – decency would have people refrain from questioning her.

When she’d finally worked up the gall to slip through the streets of Goodneighbor to make up with its mayor, she felt an uncomfortable amount of apprehension. However, her unrest was put at ease when Hancock had made light of the ordeal with Bobbi, and in a strange turn, asked her if he could head out with her on the road. She told him with a light-heartedness that was unusual for her that she’d consider it if he joined her for a drink. He’d agreed with a snicker and told Fahrenheit to stay behind and hold down the fort. Like the lady she was – in spirit, of course – he escorted her downstairs to the old subway tunnels with her hired help in tow. So, there they were; Sera, Hancock, and MacCready all splitting a bottle of whiskey and a pack of cigarettes on Sera’s dime. Sera herself wasn’t smoking this time, she was humming along idly to Magnolia’s songs while she stirred her whiskey around in the glass with a lazy twisting motion of her hand. In the dim light, Sera had tugged away her bandanna and glasses, grateful for the guise of darkness. She found it easier to drink and enjoy it if she wasn’t filtering the alcohol with the fabric of her bandanna. Beside her, Hancock sat with an inhaler in one hand and a glass in the other. He was very forthcoming with his drug use as he took turns puffing jet and taking drags of cigarettes at periodic intervals. However, when his Jet pump ran out, that was the last that she saw of him feeding the addiction.

“Better to spread it out. Pace yourself,” he explained while he sipped at his whiskey. She nodded in agreement. He went on to explain his chem addiction and how an experimental drug had turned him ghoul. When she learned that he hadn’t taken the hit of radiation like most other ghouls had, her heart sank a bit; she’d almost hoped that he’d seen the same two hundred years that she had. But she found later on when Daisy joined them that the ghoul was pre-war, and she had someone to listen to as she droned on about the world before the war. Sera didn’t actively converse with Daisy, she simply asked what the world was like before the bombs fell, just for the sake of hearing about it – about Daisy’s experience and the way she saw the world.

The music was Sera’s favorite part about Goodneighbor. Magnolia’s voice drifted through the air with a certain kind of smoothness. The Third Rail couldn’t hold a candle to New Vegas and the strip, but god damn if she wouldn’t choose Goodneighbor over it any day. Sera slouched into the couch with her drink resting on the arm while she hummed idly along. She’d started picking up the lyrics; in a way, Magnolia reminded her of Julie London. Smooth and easy on the ears; she liked the way they used their appeal to smooth over the lyrics in their jazz. It was almost otherworldly to find this kind of loveliness in the aftermath of Armageddon. The words coaxed her into a relaxed state that she hadn’t felt in years. There was no denying that she’d been overly tense for the better part of the last two hundred years; the sound of Magnolia’s voice promised safety and refuge. Even the Brotherhood and their weapons couldn’t do that. She was on her second drink when the smooth base of the plucked strings of a cello accompanied the soothing drone of a saxophone. Magnolia cooed softly into the microphone, her words velvety as she graced the Third Rail with yet another of her songs.

_All in a day’s work, when you’re a good, good neighbor._

Sera smiled softly when she felt the atmosphere shift from upbeat to strangely low-toned and warm. The world seemed a tad bit less horrifying with Magnolia’s gentle melody easing the tension. Even Hancock seemed less on-edge than the jet made him. Sera made it a mental note to take the empty inhaler from his hand before he tried to suck the soul out of it again. She did so with gentle fingers, working with diligence. She had to coax Hancock to hand it over, her tone low and dissipating into relaxing plea when she couldn’t convince him the first time. She had to work past his high, prying the inhaler from his hands with soothing words so that he didn’t lash out. Of course, he was in a happy high; he wasn’t exactly about to fight her like Maxson would when she tried to take whiskey bottles from him. Eventually she managed to get it out of his hand and into the wastebasket in the corner. With that, she poured more whiskey in his glass as a compromise for stealing away his empty drug.

“To Goodneighbor,” Hancock said suddenly, “and to Red, the woman of the evening.”

She was somewhat surprised by the sudden toast, but she wasn’t about to deny him the words of the evening. She chuckled as she raised her glass and her hired mercenary did the same in quick succession. “To Goodneighbor,” Sera and MacCready said in unison, both holding their drinks up high with twin smiles before downing their drinks in their entirety like shots.

* * *

Three shots of whiskey and half a bottle of tequila later, the trio was – for better or for worse – stumbling towards the State House with sniveling grins and incoherent sentences slurred between them. Sera hadn’t had nearly as much to drink; after her first two glasses, she’d found a stopping place and reclaimed her shades and bandanna. But Hancock and MacCready were not in such good fortune. She found herself between them, holding their weight with her arms slung behind their backs to keep them from falling. Her hands gripped their sides as they carried on. While she wasn’t drunk, she was still laughing with them; their drunken conversation and goings on had been funnier than she’d initially thought. Hancock was slumped halfway over onto her, chuckling like a fool while she struggled to keep the two standing. MacCready wasn’t in much of a better position, he was putting his weight on Sera in turn, cackling like a hyena when he stumbled. The humor only excelled when they watched Hancock try to pick the lock to the State House… which was already open. Sera groaned; if she let go of the ghoul, he’d surely fall and likely bust his head open on the pavement. It wasn’t until Fahrenheit opened the door that she found some kind of relief.

“Help.” It was more of a demand than a request, but the bodyguard only sighed and pulled on a halfhearted smile.

“It would seem that Hancock has already let you fall into the death trap, hasn’t he?” she asked, slipping her arm around his waist to guide him upstairs. Sera followed with the relief that she wouldn’t be forced to drag not one, but two meandering souls up to the second floor of the State House. “Sorry about this,” Fahrenheit continued, dropping the weight of Hancock’s intoxicated form onto one of the couches within. MacCready didn’t get such good treatment; Sera let him collapse onto the ottoman that rested next to Hancock’s new sleeping spot. “He usually paces himself… but he doesn’t much like how the weight of Bobbi’s decisions hit him. I suppose he feels weighted down by his own mayoral decisions.” As she spoke, she tugged at the chain on the lamp beside the two, banishing the foursome in inky darkness, save for a lantern on the table.

Sera sighed softly and took a quick seat in another couch across from both men, kicking one leg over the other. She couldn’t help but notice the random assortment of chems that decorated the tabletop of the coffee table between them, strewn out for her viewing pleasure. A slow, uneven sigh escaped her lips as she re-evaluated her employee and newest companion. “This is… really strange. I don’t usually take care of drunkards like they’re children. But one is paid to be a hired gun and the other is… well. Hancock.”

Fahrenheit joined her on the couch and lit a cigarette. “You gonna take him on that walk he asked for?”

A heavy silence fell over Sera as she gazed at the two immobilized men in the room, her arms crossed over her chest. She wasn’t entirely sure if she was impressed with the display of the evening; her first drink with the mayor of Goodneighbor and he’d already gotten shitfaced. Worse than that, he’d somehow managed to convince her to pay for said drinks. Top all of that off with the fact that he hadn’t actually thanked her for putting a bullet between Bobbi’s eyes and protecting his stash; she felt down right unappreciated. But it was like Fahrenheit said; he was taking it as a show of his inability to properly lead. ‘Getting too comfortable’, he’d called it. She rested one arm on the back of the couch and rubbed her forehead between her thumb and forefinger.

“I don’t know,” she admitted finally. “I’ve been thinking about it. But can he just… leave Goodneighbor? Isn’t he supposed to be playing the role of Mayor?”

Fahrenheit took a drag of her cigarette, the glow casting shadows over her face against the silhouette backdrop that was the State House. It looked like a scene from a noire movie, had it not been for the soft snores that MacCready elicited across from them. Hancock was a surprisingly sound and quiet sleeper. “You know, these people will still live life like he’s here. The mayor is still the mayor whether he’s here or gone. But listen to me, and listen close. If anything happens to him on the road,” she said with a growl, jabbing a finger in Sera’s direction, “I’m holding you personally responsible, Red.”

Sera took a deep breath; it was all she had in her power to keep from slapping Fahrenheit’s hand out of her face. “I haven’t decided on whether or not I’m taking him yet,” she said coolly. “I might just see if MacCready wouldn’t be against taking him on a stroll through Boston. Let the boys get roughed up and then have them come back when they get bored.”

Fahrenheit chuckled and leaned back to mimic Sera’s position, save for the hand holding her cigarette, which she gingerly rested upon the apex of her thigh. “Those two would kill each other before they made it out the gate.”

This made Sera snicker, though the sound died down quicker than she’d expected it to. The noise was replaced by a slow sigh, which left her before she looked back at Fahrenheit. “There’s uh… something I’ve been meaning to ask you. About Hancock.” She fumbled with her words a bit, carefully gauging what she wished to say. She almost didn’t want to talk at all; she didn’t do anyone else the kindness, it seemed strange to do it for Hancock’s bodyguard. Subconsciously, she registered Fahrenheit’s eyes on her, questioning her. But she didn’t budge. “Not only do I wonder why he wants to leave, which would obviously be a question of great importance, but… you know. His whole mayor thing. Don’t you think he’ll miss it if he leaves? My idea of a walk takes me a lot further out of town than Boston. Hell… I’d probably take him all the way to Maine, if it suits me. I heard that there’s some action up north that might be worth checking out. Something called Far Harbor. Heard that Nick Valentine went up there a couple of weeks back to check up on a girl that ran off there. Thought maybe I could check it out. But if Hancock is the type to get homesick, I don’t want him to be mad at me for going so far away.”

“He wants to get back in touch with his ‘kiss the devil and pray he doesn’t burn’ side,” Fahrenheit said softly, gazing across at him. “He likes traveling and seeing the sights. He feels like he’s been putting a lot of weight on his position as mayor. Like he’s becoming a tyrant and making a reason for the people of Goodneighbor to see him in a poor light. Like his hat is becoming a little bit too heavy. For all intents and purposes, you’re his ticket out of Goodneighbor for a good while so he can get his bearings and get back in touch with his ruffian side. Get it?”

Sera glanced at the two men asleep across from them. She couldn’t help but chuckle, “Yeah, I get it. Maybe he’ll get himself figured out, but I don’t know if he could focus past trying not to get shot.” She smiled at Fahrenheit, though the redhead wouldn’t get to see it. “He’s gonna miss you, that’s for sure. And MacCready is going to be hellishly disappointed that he’s gonna be left behind.”

“Why not take both?”

She shared a look with Fahrenheit with an eyebrow raised. They stared at one another for a moment, but they couldn’t contain their laughter. They both knew that handling one of them would be hard enough without having to deal with two.

“I think I’m gonna have you babysit MacCready. Just so we’re sure he doesn’t throw a tantrum while I’m gone,” Sera said with a snicker. She readjusted her position on the couch to be more comfortable when Fahrenheit stood. “Sound good to you?”

Fahrenheit shot her a glare and shook her head. “Hell no it doesn’t. I’m a bodyguard, not a babysitter.”

Sera chuckled softly as she drew a cigarette from her pack. She’d decided that this one would be her first and last pack since coming to Goodneighbor. With the butt balanced neatly between her lips, she took a slow breath as the flame of her lighter kissed the end. Slowly, the smooth burn of smoke in the back of her throat enticed a soft sigh from her. It was a delicious flavor, tobacco. Relaxing and swimming with flavor at the same time, she thought. The smoke drifted lazily towards the ceiling, filling the air with its intoxicating scent. Fahrenheit smirked at her and both took a drag in unison.

“I never took you for a smoker,” she noted idly as she watched. “You continue to surprise me, Red. But if you don’t mind me asking, what’s the point of wearing the bandanna?”

“I surprise myself,” Sera mumbled softly as she snapped the lighter closed, extinguishing its flame. She paused while she considered the question. “I suppose I just like to keep my face covered. Avoid breathing in a bunch of dirt and shit in the air. It also helps filter some of the smell when I kill people. Keeps blood and guts out of my face for the most part.”

“Makes sense,” Fahrenheit said. Sera knew she was unconvinced, but she showed respect for Sera’s preferences and she appreciated it to a certain degree. “You gonna head back to the Rexford?”

Sera paused for a long moment, looking to Fahrenheit with a popped brow. “Probably not. I don’t know how MacCready gets when he drinks too much; I think I’m gonna just hang around here till he wakes up and then I guess I’ll get my shit together to head out.”

The bodyguard looked skeptical at first, but she shrugged after a pregnant pause. “I suppose it’s better than leaving them to their own devices. I’ll let you watch over Hancock too. Keep him from killing himself while I’m asleep,” she joked as she leaned in to twist the small knob on the base of the lantern. The light flickered out, only to be replaced with the flame of Fahrenheit’s lighter when she re-lit her cigarette. “Sleep well, Red. I’m sure you’ll choose well when the time comes.”

Sera watched as Fahrenheit sauntered down the hallway to the twist of the stairs, shooting Sera one last look before she descended the steps. A chill went down her spine; Fahrenheit was asking quite a bit of her already and they’d only known one another for a short time. She stretched out on the couch and rested her head on the armrest, staring up at the ceiling while she enjoyed the rest of her cigarette. She was conflicted about the idea of another companion; she’d been contented with settling on MacCready alone. However, she also understood needing an out. She reasoned with herself: as long as she paid MacCready, she could take Hancock with her and all three parties would be satisfied with their state of affairs. She nodded to herself to solidify the choice; yes, she’d take Hancock with her to wherever the hell she was going and she’d be sure to send MacCready enough caps while she was gone to keep him paid and out of trouble.

Her cigarette’s flame died with the last puff of smoke and she took that as her signal to sleep. With a soft grunt and a moment to get herself comfortable, Sera tugged her hood down further and fell into a dreamless sleep.


	13. Hotter Than Hell

Hancock woke up before everyone else did. Even Fahrenheit hadn’t beat him to the catch, which was both surprising and refreshing. When he rolled off the couch, he hadn’t even noticed the other figure across from him, he’d only heard the soft snoring from the foot of the couch where MacCready slept. But he left the mercenary be and made a fresh pot of coffee to go with his morning cigarette and excused himself to the balcony on the other side of the building. The hustle and bustle of morning in Goodneighbor was a pleasant view to drink his coffee to, regardless of how unpleasant the drink was or how much he despised being up so early. Say what you will about being an early bird, but Hancock was never one for being up before noon. Mostly because he was used to pulling all-night tears before he’d found some kind of balance with his addiction.

Citizens waved up at him ever-so-often, a gesture he’d given back with a cheeky grin as they passed. Everyone earned a ‘hey, so-and-so’ from him when they greeted him in the mornings. It was one of the things he’d grown accustomed to as mayor; familiarity with every one of his citizens. Except one.

The newbie was an enigma to him. She was strangely quiet, but not uncomfortably so. She’d been friendly enough, very polite, even did him some justice and apologized for hitting his stash. Good on her, he’d thought. He hadn’t been able to weasel any information out of her in the Third Rail the night before and god save him if he didn’t like the ease in which she settled into the community. He couldn’t tell if he liked her or hated her. She didn’t make his job any more difficult; for that, he was thankful. But he also couldn’t quite figure her out, and that didn’t sit as well with him as one might expect. Hancock liked having a certain degree of knowledge about the people passing through his town; it was a good way to settle some kind of understanding between the two. But he’d barely even gotten a name, and something deep down told him that even that information had been a false pretense to say ‘mind your business’. But even if he disliked it, he could respect it.

That same ‘mind your own business’ attitude hit him like a bus when he retreated to the State House to see the stranger stirring a cup of coffee with a small plastic straw, and he could have sworn she was staring at him through her sunglasses. She was leaning casually against the tabletop with her hood drawn low over the lip of her newsboy cap; maybe the light bothered her. He couldn’t be sure. Regardless, he joined her to refill his own cup. He was sure to move away a bit to give her space, because she certainly didn’t seem like she got friendly when people entered her personal bubble. She nodded her head at him as she tugged down her bandanna, and he was surprised to see a small smile pulled across full, pastel-red lips.

“Morning, Hancock,” she said simply, her words monotonous regardless of her expression. Her voice was unnatural in a way that was almost haunting; it was unpleasant to the ears. He wasn’t sure if he liked listening to her talk either. But he could tell it was forced, so he let it slide because there was obviously something she preferred to keep on the down-low and he could handle that. So long as she didn’t point a gun at his head and demand money.

“Red,” he replied simply, mimicking her smile with that bit of Hancock flare. “And how are we this morning?”

She paused to sip from her mug before motioning in MacCready’s direction with it. “Well he’s still out like a damn light. I’ve just got a headache.”

Hancock chuckled while he dropped a mentat into his coffee and stirred it in. When he glanced at her, he could see that Red’s mouth was twisted in disgust. A brow rose, but he didn’t stop stirring his coffee for even a second. “Problem?”

“Somewhat. I just assumed you paced yourself better after what you told me last night,” she said sharply before pushing away from the table while simultaneously setting her own coffee down next to him. He was somewhat hurt by her statement and yes, she had a point. But before he could question her or make a witty Hancock-style retort, he watched as she shoved MacCready off of the ottoman with the heel of her boot planted into the side of his shoulder. He woke with a shout, clawing at the air. Just as Hancock expected, she was unfazed by the swipes he took at her in his disturbed state. “Wake up, you hungover oaf. We have work to do.”

“What the hell, boss?” MacCready groaned, rubbing the side of his head as he stood. “You always this violent?”

Hancock observed her as she sighed and fished through her pockets. She remained motionless for a moment, but finally withdrew a small flask and a syringe. She tossed both to MacCready, who caught them quickly with only the minimal amount of fumbling that one would expect of a hungover mercenary. “There. Drink the rum and inject the med-x. They’re both equally excellent for hangovers,” she said. Her tone had softened considerably; tough love was a hell of a thing. “You’ll be staying here in Goodneighbor for a while, Mac. I’m gonna go ahead and take Hancock up on his proposal.” MacCready opened his mouth to object, but she quickly stopped him with a raised finger. “Ah bupbup,” she said quickly, “don’t you fret your pretty little head. I’ll be sending you caps at regular intervals if that’ll satisfy you. God knows I don’t need them.”

“And what would you know about satisfying a man?” MacCready teased.

Oh, he had to hear this. Hancock turned his attention to Red, who was simply staring with her lips set in an unimpressed scowl. Slowly, he saw her lift her coffee mug as she approached him, swirling the drink within with a heavy sigh. “Do you really think that the answer to that is any of your business?”

“Well now I’m curious,” Hancock quipped jokingly. “C’mon now, Red. We don’t know a damn thing about you. Care to share a few tricks of the trade?”

“I would if I knew any, Hancock,” she said with a soft grunt before finishing off her coffee and excusing herself downstairs.

Her words left him dumbfounded, but not particularly surprised. A woman like that, all covered and cloaked in shadows and the clouds of impending doom hanging over her head? Only raiders and loons would go after someone like that, and if anybody else did, it would be a wonder of the universe if they got past copping a feel before she cut their hand off. She just gave off that sort of vibe, of course, and what Hancock was putting into his own mind was built on pure speculation. But something told him that he wasn’t far off base regardless.

It wasn’t long before he ventured downstairs and out the doors to find her leaning against one of the stone walls that graced the entrance of Goodneighbor. This was the first time that he’d managed to get a real, good and pure look at her through sober or otherwise unhindered eyes and proper lighting. God, how did anyone tell what she even was? As far as Hancock could tell, she was a mass of bulking metal and convoluted fabric wrapping that covered every single inch from head to toe, ending in massive combat boots and a duffle bag slung over her shoulder with an assault rifle on the other. She looked like a walking mass of garbage and death, if one wanted to put it simply. From a distance, she could easily be mistaken for a super mutant, save for the lack in height. She truly was incredibly short for Commonwealth standards. What little bit of her face Hancock could see looked tiny and out of place among the amassed items on her person. But she seemed content enough with leaning so casually with the cigarette between her lips and suddenly, Hancock didn’t feel so strangely about it anymore. She was just trying to keep herself under the radar, and for the most part, she was doing a good job of it. At least if she was trying to look like a _trader_ , she was.

When he approached, she greeted him with a small smirk and flicked out her cigarette. She quickly tugged her bandanna over her face to hide what he was only just noticing to be the unnatural pallor of her face. He was painfully curious to know more about her; what all she was hiding had to be juicy content. He had a lingering suspicion that whatever rattled around in that brain of hers was equally as mysterious and intriguing, but far be it from him to pry. Instead, he did his best to put on a friendly face; he was sure he looked just as pissed as she did when he looked at her with scrutiny the way he was. He probably looked more pissed than anything, if he knew himself.

“You ready to head out?” he asked as he approached, greeting her again with that signature Hancock smile. She didn’t verbally respond; she simply moved across the space separating her from the gate and pushed the door open with a soft grunt. “Guess that’s a yes.”

* * *

Hancock quickly learned that she proved to be a formidable opponent to those who dared try to face them. Straight out the gate, she had already razed a group of super mutants to the ground and sifted through their belongings, retrieving a total of seventy-four caps and two bottles of Nuka Cola. Not only that, but she’d also recovered a rather hefty amount of ammunition and other assorted goodies from their persons. He had to admit it, he was proud. Though he noticed that her fighting style was hindered by her armor; he could see it in the way she fussed with her clothing after every battle and even when they’d made it across the river past County Crossing, she’d still been arguing with herself over her choices of attire. But he didn’t step in.

It wasn’t until they had settled for the evening that Sera called it quits and wriggled into an enormous sleeping bag, fully clothed and decked out in the armor that held her. They’d cleared the National Guard Training Yard, a place that had only been inhabited by a group of feral ghouls and some radroaches. No real threat presented itself, so he wondered what it was that kept her trapped. Perhaps, he thought, she was paranoid. Or maybe even that she didn’t trust him. Whatever the case, he couldn’t help but feel somewhat uncomfortable with the way she conducted herself around him. Always cautious, watching his every move through those damn sunglasses. He couldn’t see her eyes, but he knew they were on him.

“Hey,” he said once they’d settled into a room, “do you and me have a problem? Because while I’m all for having attention from the ladies, I don’t much like the kind of attention you’re givin’ me.”

Sera sighed softly when he asked and he felt somewhat uncomfortable at the prospect that he may have misjudged the situation, but she didn’t deny it. “Sorry. I just… I like to observe people. Get a real feel for them before I decide that it’s safe to put my life in their hands. I haven’t had a chance to really observe someone in a while.” That was all she had to say before she rolled over onto her side and waved a dismissive hand to silence him. However, her closing sentence brought a strange kind of curiosity to him. “I haven’t had the chance to get to know someone since… well. It’s been a really long time. Figured I might go ahead and start now. Y’know, before I’m dead.”

* * *

Sera found that sleep didn’t come to her easily that night. She stared out the window into the wilderness, eyes glued on the moon above as the late hours of the evening carried on. The soft sounds of crickets in the grass came as a sort of comfort; at least one part of the world hadn’t been left behind when the bombs fell. Of course, these crickets sounded incredibly different and somewhat quieter than they were before. They provided a sort of lullaby for her when she finally decided that sleep simply wasn’t an option. Quietly so not to wake Hancock, she slipped out of her bedroll and stuffed it into her duffle bag before taking herself and her things outside to keep watch. The light of the full moon provided ample amounts of light to see her surroundings and for the first time in a long time, she felt that the time was right to simply enjoy the evening. She tugged her sunglasses off and sat against the wall outside the door, vigilant as always while her companion slept. She almost wished she had a radio to listen to, but then again… she’d had enough of music for a good while.

The truth of her plans of travel was that she really wasn’t sure what she wanted to do. She knew that her sister and brother in-law had a mansion out north; she might have to go and give that a look. But otherwise, she felt that Far Harbor was most likely the more exciting trip of the two. Then again, Lily’s husband had been a military man; a general, to be exact. There was a huge chance that he’d have quite the homestead and that the Mister Handy that the two owned had taken good care of the home. Sera sighed softly as she pondered her decisions. There was no shortage of viable options, just in the desire to select one. Hell… maybe she was just trying to escape the Brotherhood’s shadow with all these wild ideas she had floating around.

The soft sounds of shuffling within the building snapped her to attention, but she only needed a nanosecond to realize that it was just Hancock. Proof presented itself when the ghoul stepped outside with a lit cigarette and his gear and sat beside her. They didn’t speak; the two sat in a comfortable silence for what seemed like ages. Sera contemplated putting her sunglasses back on, but decided against it. It was dark enough outside that she didn’t feel the need to bother and it was light enough that he could see the outline of her features enough to sate his curiosity. When he offered her a drag, she politely declined with a shake of the head and a short wave. In the silence, Sera listened to the soft sounds of Hancock’s breathing as he smoked and the lazy shuffle of his feet when he ground the butt into the gravel at their feet.

Slowly, the sun ascended into the sky. Sera put her glasses back on and gathered up her gear, and Hancock took that as a sign to do the same. Together, the two traveled east. They only got as far as Finch farm before a man came rushing out of the homestead with a wild look in his eyes. He was holding a gun, and cursing at the duo. She didn’t much like being threatened by a stranger; just like she did Finn, Sera held up her rifle and pressed the end of the barrel against his forehead until he calmed down. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Hancock frowning, but she didn’t budge. He was lucky that she didn’t pull the trigger. “Something on your mind, farmer?” she asked coolly, adjusting her stance so that her weight rested on one leg. Her armor was starting to get heavy.

“I-I’m sorry! I just thought you were one of those damn Forged. My bastard son ran off to join them… stole my grandfather’s sword. That’s the closest thing I have to an heirloom,” he spat, dropping his gun to his side. “Look, if you two wanna make some quick caps, go and get that sword back for me. They’re holed up in Saugus Ironworks.”

Begrudgingly, she accepted. Not without entrusting her duffle bag to the farmer, whose name turned out to be Abraham. Then, the two headed out towards the ironworks. Sera wasn’t overly excited about the trip; if it were up to her, Finch would be getting his own damn sword back. But she knew that Hancock wouldn’t like it if she said so. So she accepted the challenge of proving to Hancock that she wasn’t a totally terrible person. The trip to the factory took around half an hour, leaving the two winded from jogging across the space that they had to cover. Once they reached the building, both crept against the back wall while they caught their breaths.

Sera didn’t like the look of the Forged. They carried an assortment of weapons, mostly flamers and molotov cocktails. Further inspection through the scope of her rifle revealed that a large portion of them had decorated their skin with burn scars and cuts. She could see that they were people who centered their whole shtick around fire and heat. This, she decided, was probably why they made their hovel in a place that was filled with molten metal and extreme temperatures. She wasn’t overly excited about going inside the factory in the heavy armor she wore, but that’s what she got for accepting work from a settler.

Once she’d caught her breath, Sera glanced over at Hancock. He didn’t seem as prepared as she was, but her impatience was getting the better of her. She ducked out of cover to dart forward, keeping herself in a low crouch as she closed in on her quarry. A man with a flamer stood guard over a shipment of god only knew what; he was Sera’s first target. She took shelter behind the trailer of the shipment’s truck, breathing slowly as she took aim. Her finger curled around the trigger as she mentally counted down from three, exhaling through her nose. When she reached two, she pulled the trigger and the gun spit three bullets into his head, which quickly separated itself from his body. She only had a short moment to celebrate the shot before the other Forged were alerted to her presence. Quickly as she could, she dispatched of two more of the raiders before running towards a tree for a new cover. But she had forgotten that in the enormous armor she was wearing, there wasn’t even a chance for stealth. She cursed at herself for this misfortune; she needed to hide.

Too late did she realize that her predicament was dangerous, however. Flames kissed her arm, scorching the cloth that connected to her hood and burning her armor. The heat practically baked the skin within, but there was no time to worry about the pain. She quickly fished a stimpak out of her belt and jammed the needle into her arm before she charged at the source of the fire and rammed the butt of her gun into the Forged member’s face, followed by a quick triple burst of bullets. She could hear Hancock yelling something about being feral from her left, but her concentration was forced on another Forged that charged her with – you guessed it – a flamer. She thought much quicker this time and shot the tank, sending the Forged and two of his nearby buddies straight to hell in a fiery explosion. Her attention was then turned to the second biggest problem. Sharpshooters shot up dirt at her feet from the roof, and Sera certainly wasn’t having any of that. She ran behind an old car and gripped the rifle a bit tighter; if she wanted to snipe them down, she had to relax. She had to breathe.

“Hancock!” she yelled, drawing the ghoul’s attention. Sera provided cover fire while he ran to join her, and once they were behind the safety of the car, she took a slow breath. “I’m going to take out the guys on the roof. I need you to cover me. Can you do that?”

They nodded agreement and Sera took point, resting the barrel of her rifle along the hood of the car while she lined up shots. “Eins,” she said slowly, squeezing the grip gently as she took a breath, “zwei,” she whispered as she pulled the trigger, dispatching of the first sharpshooter. Quickly, her attention settled on the next. “Drei,” she called, planting a bullet in the second. Then the third and fourth, and with that, the rooftop was cleared. But her business wasn’t finished yet. Across from her, Forged hid in the building’s entryway, guarding the door. While Hancock took out whichever ones had the bravery to round the car, she picked off several more of their enemies. When the way was clear, Hancock and Sera ran together to the doors, slamming them open with their shoulders.

Immediately, the heat began to force her to sweat. She was baking in her armor and in the blink of an instant, the Forged began firing off their flamers at the duo. Sera ran for cover, but behind it she only found more adversaries. She slammed her shoulder into the first, but the second was quicker than she had guessed. His fist came down and cracked the lenses of her sunglasses, breaking the bridge between them and sending them tumbling off her face. She cursed when the plastic cut her nose, but that was little compared to the way the flames on her armor burned her from the inside out. Quickly, she raised her rifle and fired off as many rounds as she felt necessary before both toppled to the floor.

The heat was too intense. She found that she couldn’t breathe past the bandanna, and when she pulled it off, she lost it in the flames of one of the furnaces. But it was of little consequence when she was tackled to the ground and her face became smudged with dirt and soot. The struggle lasted only a moment; she had much more hand-to-hand experience than the man gave her credit for, and that was his mistake. When she finally managed to roll over, she kicked him off and he went toppling into a melting pot of molten iron. His screams echoed within the factory, and even once she’d moved past his burning remains and onto the catwalk, they haunted her. Hancock was at her side once they relocated each other on the walkway and ran through a set of double doors just beyond where they originally had been. It was there that they were greeted with the sight of a settler on his knees at the feet of a younger man. This one didn’t share the armor of the other Forged and actually looked somewhat scared. In front of them all, a man in power armor topped the catwalk with a sword in hand, talking down at who Sera quickly understood to be Jake Finch.

Sera watched the exchange with a growing intolerance, and before there could be any compromise between the men, Hancock and herself started firing rounds into the surrounding Forged. Jake made a run for it and ducked beneath the stairs and Sera charged down the catwalk to the steps that led up to the platform where the armored Forged stood with a dumbfounded look. But once she rounded the corner and raised her rifle, he was on high alert. He swung the sword at her, narrowly missing cutting her face. She glared at him with spite and malice before raising her rifle and unloading a clip of rounds into the points that she knew all too well to be the easiest in power armor to compromise. Like clockwork, her bullets made contact and pieces of metal fell away, only to be kicked off the edge of the catwalk into the smelter below by a very angry redhead as she advanced upon her quarry. Meanwhile, the Forged that wore the armor was swearing three ways to Sunday while trying his damnedest to block the bullets with the sword. It was a lost cause if she ever saw him, but she gave the man an A for effort. At least… until she’d unloaded all of her ammunition into his power armor.

He was certainly more exposed now, but that didn’t stop him from slamming into her, the force of which being enough to throw her across the catwalk and into the railing. She watched in horror as he ran at her with the sword raised, yelling loud enough to wake the dead. But opportunity presented itself; she noticed quite quickly that he’d set himself on one singular path towards her. She had a good opening; his momentum would never allow him to change direction. Not in power armor. Right as he was about to slam into her again, she leaped to the side, gripping the sword handle so that she could wrench it from his grasp. She ran at the wall behind him and jumped, kicking off of the wall behind him. Sera brought her legs together as she came flying in his direction and threw all of her weight onto his back. Both of her feet slammed into the armor frame and she used the momentum she’d gathered to kick. With a mighty yell and the vicious push of both legs, the Forged toppled forward and fell straight into the smelter. Sera crashed to the floor of the catwalk, a katana gripped in one hand and her empty rifle in the other. She heaved slow, deep breaths to try and find some equilibrium before she even dared to stand.

The armor was too hot and all too heavy. She didn’t care anymore about being inconspicuous, she was cooking alive and would certainly have a heat stroke if she didn’t take it off. Her hands fumbled at the clips, tearing away bits of fabric that got in her way. Finally, she worked the leather straps loose from their buckles and the enormous chest piece of her cage armor fell to the floor with an unceremonious crash. Next came her bracers and elbow pads, which she tossed over the edge of the railing. The heat was unbearable. She had to take the hood off. It was already burned and tattered now; little more than a rag in the wind. She dropped it into the smelter, leaving herself in her leg armor and road leathers. She still had her newsboy cap, and for that, she was thankful. But she needed something to replace the safety of her armor. Quickly and quietly, she darted back into the larger area of the factory, hunting through scorched bodies until she found a duster that would fit comfortably. She threw it over her shoulders and shrugged the leather into place, noting how it was several sizes too big and when buttoned, hid her figure in its entirety. She liked that. And with the design of the duster, she could more freely move her legs and arms. It was perfect. With that, she fished one more stimpak out of her belt’s pouch to inject the medication into her burned arm.

She was quick to rejoin her companion and the Finch boy, as well as his prisoner. She stopped to cut the man’s hands and feet loose and offered him a small syringe of med-x before sending him on his way, then ambled down the stairs to meet Hancock and Jake Finch at the bottom. Hancock frowned when he saw her; it made sense to do so, she probably looked like hell in a hand basket. But she was holding the sword out to the farmer’s son, brows knit in anger and disappointment. She counted herself lucky that he even knew that it was her.

“It’s time to leave,” she announced with finality as she passed the weapon to the boy.

“It wasn’t meant to be like this,” he said softly, gripping the sword handle with trembling fingers. “I just wanted to provide for my family.”

Sera said nothing. She turned on her heel and shot him a venomous glare before she turned on her heel and headed for the door.

* * *

Outside, it was raining. And god, no one had ever been happier for rain. When she finally stepped out the door and into the fresh air, Hancock watched as his companion took a slow, deep breath and looked up into the sky. She tilted her head back and let the rain fall on her face, washing away soot and dirt in the spaces where droplets of water touched her. She closed her eyes and into the heavens to ‘thank God for the rain’. He watched in profound silence. It was incredibly strange to see her without all of that armor on; somehow, she looked much smaller with the duster on and buttoned all the way down than she ever did in that bulking cage armor. But he had to admit that it was pleasant to see that she’d finally rid herself of the sunglasses and bandanna. Hancock was content to admire the view while she stood in the rain while it slipped down her cheeks and onto the fabric of her newly acquired attire.

“It was too hot in there,” she finally said softly, glancing over at Hancock. “What you see… we don’t talk about this.”

It took him a moment to understand what she meant. Ghostly pale skin, matted down blood-red hair that you could just barely see under the edge of her cap, and eyes so bright that they looked like ice if he ever saw it. She was like a rose; delicate and ornate but decorated with thorns sharper than Einstein’s intellect. But her expression was solemn, almost as though she’d spent a hundred years crying. Hancock didn’t question her request; he honored it in silence as he observed her. But he understood why she didn’t want to bring it up. She looked alien in most regards; her colors were unnatural. Maybe that’s why they were so enchanting.

“Let’s go, Finch,” she said suddenly, hiking through the mud back towards the Finch farm. “We need to have a little chat with your father.”


	14. Sanctuary

A month had passed. Sera and Hancock had traversed the Commonwealth in some good fortune, though Hancock was unsure where exactly it was that Sera was taking them. Sera didn’t know either. She was just walking, letting her feet carry her where they would. Because of her oh-so-giving spirit, she’d taken several more jobs for settlers. They’d killed raiders for some, helped build homesteads and defenses for others. It was widely understood that a woman by the name of Red was helping rebuild and renew the Commonwealth, save for a few settlements that were better left abandoned. These settlements had been left to hold their own by the General of the Minutemen, who had mysteriously disappeared along with the Institute.

Sera knew that she was starting to play a much bigger role in the fate of the Commonwealth. Restoring what she could, if she could, was what she had started doing most. Her travels were still set on a singular path, but she couldn’t help it when someone asked for help. She’d been able to get several people on their feet and built them back up to their former glory, and she had to admit that it felt pretty good to help people. But the work was hard and strenuous. Luckily for her, the settlers were generous with their reward and paid as many caps as they could, which she promptly used to trade with caravans on the road so that herself and Hancock didn’t starve.

The two had made for rather stale companions, in Sera’s opinion. She’d grown more cold towards things, of course, so it wasn’t his fault. He was interesting enough, but she herself was doing her best to keep herself together. She had started shooting him snide comments when he tried to make a joke of things and her temperament had been sour. So for the most part, the two didn’t talk. They lacked in actual conversation, but there was an unspoken agreement between them to keep going. Keep on working together. Because whether or not she was harsh towards him, Hancock approved of how she helped everyone and she shunned his less than appealing preferences for living. As far as they were concerned, things were going fairly well, save for Sera’s attitude. She’d grown accustomed to Hancock’s mannerisms and his chem addiction, as well as the way he tended to yell at their enemies when they got into a fight. He even shouted at bloatflies, and while it was humorous, Sera had grown numb to such things. She knew she was fighting depression, but she denied it to herself.

The last week of the month took them up to the north west. It was there that the two found Sanctuary Hills. Sera was silent for a long time when they walked across the bridge and stepped past the enormous gates that had been built at the entrance. Someone had erected a ten-foot fence around what used to be a residential area and the outside was lined with active turrets, as well as what Sera had discerned to be armed Minutemen. When the two approached the gates, the man watching over them greeted them with a nod and let them in. They were polite, she had to give them that. The street was filled with the hustle and bustle of countless settlers, all milling about to conduct their own business. Down the street, a monstrous building stood where a house used to be. Three stories tall and lined with balconies, it looked like a watchtower. More armed Minutemen walked the length of the railings, brandishing laser muskets and twisted frowns. The two decided that their best bet was probably just to pass through and buy what they needed, then leave. But fortune wasn’t looking in their direction.

Not ten minutes had passed since they walked in before they were approached by a young-looking man in a heavy coat and a hat with one side folded straight up against the side of his head. He looked to be in his mid-thirties and displayed the same laser musket that the others did. With warm darker colored skin and almond-brown eyes, he seemed to be a comforting presence. “My name is Preston Garvey,” he said politely, offering up a kind smile. “You two are new here. I never forget a face, and I’ve never seen yours.”

“Red,” Sera said with a short nod.

If she’d ever seen someone so excited, she couldn’t remember when. As soon as the word escaped her lips, he went into a frenzy. “ _The_ Red? The one that’s been helping out all of the settlements? Boy, am I glad you’re here,” he said in a hurried tone, waving her towards him as he started towards the aforementioned watchtower. “Come with me. I have something to talk to you about, if you can spare a few minutes.”

Sera and Hancock exchanged quick glances, both rather uncomfortable with Preston’s eagerness and immediate action. They followed slowly nonetheless, both gripping their rifles a bit tighter. Sera didn’t know this settlement well. She’d heard of it, but she hadn’t been to it before. She didn’t trust it, and therefore she felt threatened when they asked her to enter an enormous watchtower full of armed guards. But when they went inside, they were greeted by a somewhat pleasant sight.

Within was a small market, complete with several small shops that lined the walls. A magazine rack adorned one corner, filled to the brim with old copies of RobCo Fun and Guns n’ Bullets. Fake plants dotted doorways and even the stairwell to the right that Preston was hurriedly waving them towards. They took the bait and followed him up to the second floor. It was here that they truly shrank back into distrust, however. Guns lined the walls and a trio of mannequins had been erected and restored against one wall, each wearing a different uniform. A small group of Minutemen stood vigilant, watching the duo as they slowly ascended the stairs. They both stood in silence once they reached the top.

“Everyone, I’d like you to meet Red. She’s the one that’s been helping us out,” Preston quipped, his grin growing into a full-blown smile. The tension seemed to drain from the room as the Minutemen started to smile and thank her. Several tried to shake her hand, but Sera shied away from their touch. When the ruckus finally settled, Preston took front and center. “Look… we know you haven’t really been here long and that this all must be a big surprise, but we want to have a dinner in your honor. We couldn’t have been able to drag this operation out of the mud if you hadn’t come along. Our old General… she disappeared. But you helped us regain our footing. We know it’s too much to ask you to take her place, and since our numbers are higher nowadays, finding a new General won’t be too hard… but we want to ask you to stay the night so we can celebrate.”

She didn’t want to stay. Just a few more days of a hike and they could be at her sister’s mansion, sipping purified water and whistling the Star-Spangled Banner. But these… militia soldiers. They had been so proud of Sera and Hancock and she was sure that it would break their heart if the two left so abruptly. Not to mention the fact that they were offering up a rare kind of hospitality that she had no choice but to appreciate; times were hard enough without getting over-friendly with an outsider. They hardly owed her such a kindness. With a resigned sigh, she gave Hancock a passive look. He met her gaze and just shrugged.

“Alright,” she said slowly, lowering her rifle so that it hung at her side. “I suppose we could stay for one night. Can we resupply here?”

“Of course! Just talk to Marcy and Jun, they can help you out if you need weapons or armor. Sturges will repair your stuff if you ask him and then Mama Murphey sells chems and medicine,” he said with a polite smile.

Sera nodded only once before turning on her heel to head downstairs with Hancock in tow. Her first order of business was with the market for more ammunition and stimpaks. Before any festivities, she needed to restock for the road ahead.

* * *

The night air was alive with the sound of laughter and celebratory cheers in Sera’s honor. The name ‘Red’ spread around the settlement like wildfire, earning Sera more attention than she actually wanted. She was sickened; Hancock didn’t get nearly as much credit as she did while he did half the work. For that purpose, she started telling settlers that he did just as much work as she did. They hardly listened; settlers never did. But she made a valiant effort, and Hancock had settled for using her caps to buy a shot of jet and a box of mentats from Mama Murphy to settle things between them. She didn’t like watching him take those long puffs from the inhaler, but she knew that there was no stopping him once he got started. Not till it was gone. And with Mama Murphy taking hits beside him while she rambled on about some sort of sight, needless to say, the jet was gone quickly.

They all lined a set of pushed-together wooden tables laid over with old bed linens that acted as tablecloths. Everyone besides Sera and Hancock had brought some kind of food and drink to the table. Several platters displayed collections of fried and otherwise grilled meats and vegetables. Someone even made three mutfruit pies, which were offset on a table in the corner of the room. The building they were in was right beside the gates to the town; the name called it ‘Blue’s Diner’. Assorted bottles of drinks sat in the center of each table, but Sera had opted for a small carton of water and a bowl of Brahmin stew in the place of the more common steaks and other meats that those around her ate. Hancock himself had accepted roasted deathclaw meat, which made Sera elbow him under the table and give him a sharp look. But he just chuckled and offered her a bite, which she hesitated to take but accepted anyways.

Once they’d all settled into casual conversation after their meals, Preston stood and tapped on the edge of his plate with a fork, drawing everyone to him. “So, everyone… I know times have been tough. I know that General Hayes left and just disappeared, and I have hope that someday she’ll come home and we’ll all get to revisit the good old days with us…” Sera felt her stomach twist into a grotesque knot. “…but, tonight is about Red and the amazing work she’s done for us. She’s reviving the Commonwealth, one settlement at a time. Give her a hand, everyone.”

Around her, Sera could hear the applause. She could hear the people thanking her and giving her support for the things she did, offering up drinks and asking if they could buy her one after dinner. But Sera stared into her bowl with empty features while her innards did summersaults. They were all waiting for someone that wouldn’t come home. Someone who could never come back to the Minutemen. And Sera was going to have to be the one to tell them that. But the question stood: could she? Could she bring herself to explain to Preston Garvey that his General was killed by Sera herself? Did she have it in her to even tell Preston that Nora was dead to begin with? Sera knew she had to tell him about at least part of it. Maybe about the Institute or Nora’s son, or even the synth that followed both of them around like a lost puppy. About the imprisonment and how Sera felt like she had no choice but to kill her. About bashing her skull open on the atrium floor.

Black spots started to dot Sera’s vision, coupled with a shortness of breath. Little images, fragments of memory, started to pop into her mind at a hundred miles a minute. She quickly took her water and took a long drink, taking in as much as she could before she had to breathe again. She could feel her pulse hammering in her chest and god there just wasn’t enough water. A hand rested on her shoulder and before she knew it, she was violently jerking away and reaching for her pistol. She could feel her fingers on the grip and her arm whipping into motion, and if it weren’t for someone knocking her hand to the side, she never would have missed when she fired off a shot.

She didn’t realize what had happened until she heard the sound of Minutemen running into the building and dropped the gun. Her whole body was shaking from head to toe, and she could barely see past the haze of her own horror. Hancock was leaning away from her, eyes wide in disbelief and fear. She could see where the bullet had gone through the roof above his head and how his hand hovered just above her shoulder. Sera looked down at her hands in disgust, then around the table at those surrounding her. They were staring, wide eyed and reaching for their own weapons. But she found herself looking back at Hancock, fingers curling into tight fists while she drew away from him. Slowly, she stood and started backing away, ignorant to the sound of her chair clattering to the floor behind her.

“Please…” she whispered, gripping the lapel of her duster, “don’t ever touch me. None of you. Don’t…” She couldn’t finish. Her breaths were still short and misplaced and she was struggling to find the proper thing to say to the people around her. They were all staring, waiting for something, for anything. But she couldn’t speak. Instead, she turned and stumbled out the door into the evening air and sucked in a deep breath. But it wasn’t enough. She ran out the gates and found herself crashing into the water in the river to try to wake herself up from her own episode. Her back hit the water with a soft smack and the cold instantly served as a wake-up call to reality. But all she saw was the stars.

She wanted to cry. Sera wanted so badly to just curl up and cry and never think about anything ever again. But she couldn’t cry and she knew that she couldn’t. The pain in her chest was too tight and she couldn’t even catch enough of a breath to let out a sob. No, she lay in the water and let it wash over her while she stared up at the stars in silence. She could hear voices calling for her, looking for ‘Red’, but that wasn’t her, was it? She wanted so badly to leave Sanctuary and never go back, to drop Hancock in the care of the Minutemen so that she could run away. But she wasn’t going to do that. She knew that no matter how bad things got, she’d never make good on the self-destructive things she wanted to do. Regardless of her mental state, she knew better than to hurt herself; she had a lot left in her life that she hadn’t discovered yet, and she couldn’t have those things if she was dead. However, nothing in the whole world was stopping her from lying in the water and just looking at the sky, watching the clouds eclipse the moon when they drifted over.

“I found her,” came the voice of one of the Minutemen. She didn’t fight it when a small group of people approached her and joined her in the water. She simply whispered again that one plea, that one quiet request.

“Please don’t touch me.”

She knew that they wouldn’t listen. How else would they get her back up into Sanctuary, all the way up into their makeshift hotel? It was a place built onto the roof of one of the old houses. They called it Sanctuary Inn, very uninventive and lacking in imagination, Sera thought. The room that they put her in was small and cozy. It was warm enough, but they wouldn’t put her on the bed. No, she could hear them mumbling about wet clothes and something about not getting the sheets dirty. Someone mentioned asking some of the women to strip her down, but Sera thanked everything in the heavens that Hancock’s voice rose above the rest to tell everyone to scram and give her some space. Afterwards, she could hear everyone leaving the room and the sound of her duffle bag dropping onto the bed. She rolled over onto her side and hid her head in the curve of her elbow. She couldn’t look at him. She’d almost _killed_ him during that episode and god did she hate herself for it.

“When you’re feeling better,” Hancock said softly, “I’ll be down in the tower talking to Preston. I know what that was and trust me, I don’t blame you for what happened. Plenty of drifters have some really bad memories that haunt them, Red. Don’t go kickin’ yourself over it, okay? Just get some rest if you need it.”

After he left, she let herself have ten minutes before she got up and fished out the dry secondary pair of leathers out of her duffle bag. Slowly but surely, she peeled away the layers of her wet clothing and laid them over a chair to dry, then tugged on the fresher pair so that she could go and visit with Preston and Hancock. To her right, a door caught her eye. Could it be…? It was too good to be true, that was for sure. She pushed it open, and lo and behold within was a bathroom, complete with a mirror and a toilet with working plumbing. There wasn’t a shower, but that suited her just fine because she had the means to check herself in the mirror.

She looked… well, for lack of a better word, she looked horrible. Dark circles lined her eyelids and various cuts and scrapes decorated her neck and shoulders. She also noticed that she looked incredibly close to death with the pallor of her skin being at a new level of white. Her skin looked more like fresh bedsheets than it did actual human flesh. She found that the bit of hair that was exposed had been browned by dirt and soot from the ironworks. Just for good measure, she tugged the cap off and wrung her hair out into the rug before looping it up into a matted-down bun and pulling her hat back on. With that, she zipped up the jacket to her leathers and grabbed her duster. The leather dried out quicker than she’d expected it to, so it was only a bit damp when she threw it over her shoulders and let it settle on her tiny figure.

When she had decided that her appearance was acceptable and that she was in a calmer state of mind, she traveled downstairs to the ground-level of the hotel. The secretary that worked the front desk of the hotel was a ghoul girl that smiled kindly when she passed, and Sera did well to offer up the same courtesy before leaving the building. A few settlers watched her cross the distance from the hotel to the watchtower, but only a small handful dared ask if she was okay or speak about her in any form. She could hear one man whisper that she’d tried to murder Preston, but his companion quickly silenced him and demanded that he recognize the work that Sera had put in. Everyone had their bad days, he’d said. But Sera? She was just doing her best to block it all out while pushing open one of the double doors to the Minutemen’s building. She quickly went upstairs to search for Hancock and Preston, but those who sat in the small armory directed her to a second stairwell so that she could go all the way up to the top floor.

It was there that Sera found Preston’s quarters, as well as what looked to be a war table. He lived like a true military man as if at camp with his bed set up against the far wall, but with dual couches sitting in the center of the room with a table between. A map sat on said table, topped off with a knife through what looked to be Fort Independence. Two bottles of beer sat neatly on makeshift cork coasters, and Hancock sat on one couch with Preston on the other. They were deep in conversation and for a few minutes, Sera stood in silence at the top of the stairs to just listen. They hadn’t taken notice of her just yet; maybe that’s why it was so easy for them to ignore her presence while they talked about the Minutemen and how they’d fared since the Quincy Massacre. While the conversation was somewhat saddening, it was still uplifting to hear about the recovery of their troops.

Hancock just happened to look up and see her standing there and a comforting smile spread across his face. “Well hey there, Red. Glad you could join us. Care for a drink?”

As he asked, he raised a can of purified water and scooted to his left so that she’d have room to sit next to him. She slowly crossed the room and sat down, accepting the can from him with still-shaking fingers. Preston smiled at her, but she couldn’t bring herself to even look in his direction. He didn’t seem to mind it though, opting instead for carrying on his conversation with Hancock while she quietly drank her water and listened in. But she knew that she had to tell him sooner or later. She had to talk to him about what had happened to Nora.

“Mister Garvey,” she said suddenly, drawing the attention of both Hancock and Preston at the same time. “I… have to talk to you about something that you might find to be of some importance.” She paused for a moment to measure her words before drinking the remainder of her water and setting the can on the table. “I’ve heard a lot about you. But… not as a Minuteman.”

Preston chuckled and placed his hands in his lap. “Well I’ve made a few friends here and there along the way.”

“I knew Nora.”

He hesitated before responding. “Knew?”

She sighed. The world suddenly seemed a bit too big and the room was a bit too small. She felt like she was suffocating, but she knew that she had no choice but to go all-in. “Nora Hayes was a Paladin in the Brotherhood of Steel, as I’m sure you know. But she was much more than that. Not in the way you may believe, however. She…” Sera sighed and rubbed her forehead. It was more difficult to get these things out than she’d imagined. “She doubled up on agency with the Institute and destroyed the Railroad. Then tried to mount an attack on the Brotherhood. She uh… she took me as a prisoner of war and started dosing me with poison. When the Brotherhood learned that she betrayed them, they launched a full-frontal assault on the Institute and… I killed her. I killed Nora.”

Preston was quiet for a long time. He didn’t even move. But Sera was prepared for that sort of thing. She was prepared to get thrown out on her ass and told to never come back to Sanctuary. However, she wasn’t prepared to watch a grown man start to cry. “She… she joined the Institute?”

“Her son was the director,” she said quietly. “For the sake of honesty between the tree of us, I guess it’s time for a little history lesson about me.”

Sera began her tale with the Brotherhood. She dared not go into detail further back than that; there was no way of knowing how either of them would react to hearing about her genetic makeup or even her age. But she told them in perfect detail about her time in the Brotherhood of Steel, about meeting Nora and getting to know her out in the field. Of the betrayal and the time spent in the Institute under guard by Nora and the synth that stayed with her for so long. She told Preston about how Nora died – though not in explicit detail – and went on to explain that she left the Brotherhood in search of a new adventure. In short, she phrased it as such: “I left the Brotherhood because my days with them were numbered anyways. The adventure was over… so I left to find a new one.”

The room settled into solemn silence while both Sera and Preston pondered the things said. She was still on the verge of a breakdown, but it felt like talking about it rather than just thinking had been more helpful than it had been hurtful. The latter was simply silent and wiped away his tears.

“Thank you for telling me, Red,” he said with a small smile. “I’m glad you were at least honest with me. She uh… she did seem strange in those last few days that she was here. I guess it’s a good thing I got accustomed to the idea of her being gone. Truth is… I wasn’t waiting for her to come home. The Commonwealth takes away the best of us. I made my peace a long time ago. You’re welcome to stay here, if you’d like. I won’t throw you out for honesty or things that weren’t in your control. And your stay at the hotel will be on me.”

She shook her head quickly and held up a hand. “I plan to pay for the room. I can’t live on someone else’s dime just because I had to help a few people out. You guys need the caps I can bring. And… I’m not particularly fond of taking handouts.”

“Of course,” he replied quietly. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to have some time to myself. Call it a night, I think. You two have a good night.”

* * *

Hancock watched her quietly as she moved about the room, digging through her personal paraphernalia with hurried hands and silent determination. He wasn’t exactly sure what she was doing, but the best guess he had was that she was searching for something. Maybe she was just trying to keep herself busy. After what he’d heard about her, he could understand why she’d been so shaken up after Preston’s speech at the diner, and furthermore, he could see why she was so worked up now. Far be it from him to deny anyone their backstory’s effect. Though the thought that she was with the Brotherhood made him sit with some unease, he saw that she’d joined up with good reason and friendly intentions. She hadn’t said anything ill towards ghouls or the like and so far, she’d only lashed out at him when she was in a particularly snide mood. He knew that she joined the Brotherhood of Steel in order to help herself get out of a bad place. That she’d quit with good intentions at heart. She’d come to Goodneighbor to find a new start, and that was okay with him. Everyone needed a new chapter to their story.

“Hey Red, you doin’ okay? Ya look like Cricket when she’s had too much jet,” he joked as he watched her, but she just shot him a dark look and it was enough to effectively shut him up. “Sorry. Look, why don’t you just sleep and call it a night, huh? I’ll keep watch or whatever and take the chair for the night.”

Red shook her head and sighed, then gingerly set her duffle bag on the floor. “No, just keep your distance and we can share the bed. I’ve shared sleeping space with worse people,” she mumbled, kicking off her boots so that she could tuck her legs beneath the sheets.

Hancock was very hesitant. While he did like the idea of sharing a bed with a beautiful lady, he wasn’t too keen on sharing with someone who had a tendency to flinch away from every single touch and lash out at anyone who go too close. She was a ticking time bomb and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to put up with that. But the more he looked at that chair in the corner, the less appealing it seemed. So, with an indignant sigh, he stepped out of his boots and circled around the bed. After gauging how much space was available that seemed safe to take up, he laid on his back and pulled his hat low over his face, legs crossed nice and neat while he casually toyed with a hole in his socks with his toes. Red was watching him do this with a frown creasing her forehead, but she didn’t say anything. She just curled up into a tiny ball and hugged the pillow, then reached across to turn off the light.

“Night,” he said quietly.

“Sleep,” she replied sharply.

He chuckled at that, but he wasn’t about to disobey. He wriggled further down onto the bed and just barely let his shoulder brush against her back. He felt it was safe to say that the world wouldn’t explode when the soft sound of her breath took the place of violent fits of rage. Maybe she wasn’t entirely as jumpy as she seemed. At least not always. 


	15. A Year of Rebuilding

The night that Sera had planned to spend in Sanctuary had been stretched into a week. She and Hancock stayed after a number of requests for help had come from the settlers to help fix turrets and teach new recruits how to handle their guns. Several days of work ushered in talk of a party. The party was supposed to be the anniversary of the Minutemen regaining their footing in the Commonwealth, but they added in Sera’s helpful achievements and Preston’s newly promoted general of the Minutemen, a woman with choppy red hair and a thick Irish accent that went by the name of Cait. Christmas lights had been strung all over the place seemingly overnight, mainly from the tree at the center of the cul-de-sac to the surrounding shopping huts that had been built there. The neighboring stores included various shops and a bar; that bar was the epicenter of action while everyone organized the festivities.

Sera was in charge of repairing an old stereo system that had been dragged out of what she’d learned to be Nora Hayes’s old home, right into a warehouse that the settlers had thrown together with old pieces of house and boards cut from old trees. She didn’t like the idea of being involved in something that she wanted to part of, but Hancock encouraged her to accept their kindness under the premise of rarity and politeness. So she did, and gave in to Preston’s request and went to work on the stereo, which luckily, had a very basic structure. With some technical advice from the handyman Sturges, she had the stereo up and running in less than a day. And to test it, she had been playing one of the few holotapes that she’d been given by Haylen during their time serving together. Hancock was casually watching her from his selected spot in the doorway with a beer in his hand, chuckling when she smacked the top of the player and cursed in what he could only guess to be German. Speaking German had been a habit of hers lately.

“Havin’ some trouble there, Red?” he asked with a snicker as he advanced on her position in the building.

She shook her head for a moment before slamming a fist down on the top of the stereo. Suddenly, sound cried out from the speakers. After only a few minor tweaks, the sounds of Dion’s The Wanderer played loud and clear for both of them to hear. Sera cheered with a bright smile, leaping up with a small bounce in her step.

“Yes! Finally!” she said loudly as a crooked grin spread across her face like wildfire.

Hancock joined her at her side, staring at the stereo while it played the fruits of her labor at half-volume. “Ya did good, Red,” he said with a smirk.

Sera paused for an instant in thought as she looked upon her achievement. She actually felt in a pretty good mood for the first time in a while. Perhaps it was the time spent with the settlers that had helped her. Perhaps it was that she’d had the opportunity to spend some quality time with Hancock, regardless of her attitude. Or maybe it was closure in talking about what had happened. Regardless, she was in higher spirits and she wanted to share the wealth. The redhead turned on her heel and held a hand out to Hancock. She could feel her pulse jump when she saw the look on his face; he was surprised and very… hesitant? No, he was just confused.

“Dance with me,” she said with a sheepish smile. “I owe you for being an ass, I think…”

Hancock seemed uncertain at first, but he took a quick swig from his bottle then set it aside on the top of the stereo before he took her hand and pulled her into a swing-style spin. The two fell into step as easily as when they fought together; perfectly in tune with one another and in time with the music. They crossed the floor in a fit of chuckles – giggles on Sera’s part – and did their best to avoid crashing into anything that happened to be in their path along the way. She could feel his hand on her waist, pulling her closer while he spun her away from the door into an elegant circle. Sera found that he was actually an incredibly good dancer for the most part, save for the points at which he was busy teasing her and toying with her footwork by threatening to trip her. She didn’t mind it at all; it was fun-loving and refreshing to feel such a lighthearted humor between herself and someone else, so she gripped his shoulder a bit tighter and laughed at him.

She found that she herself was doing a botched job of dancing because she was too busy focusing on everything about him. Sera found that she saw the most minute details that lay in his features. The hidden specks of green in the dark abyss of blackened eyes, the smooth croon of his radiation-worn voice and the way his hands fit so neatly against her waist and how her own settled into his touch as if they were fitting puzzle pieces. But the subject of touch was a whole other thing… for once, she wasn’t feeling horrified and riveted at the idea of physical contact. No, she actually felt a warm sensation traveling through her body from her head to the tips of her fingers and toes. She felt incredibly relaxed and dare she say… happy? And he looked like he was happy too; after he’d gotten a feel for her and likely following realizing that she wasn’t going to peel his skin off with a paring knife, he’d actually started smiling and laughing with a natural consistency that she found to be incredibly welcoming. Adding to that, he was also hugging her closer with each verse, and while she wasn’t usually open to such close contact, she couldn’t help but welcome it.

The song came to an end long before the two came to a stop. When they finally did, Sera was grinning like a fool and giggling while she watched her feet, doing her best to avoid stepping on his toes when he deliberately moved them beneath her boots. She smiled up at him and time itself seemed to stop. What she noticed was that her chest felt incredibly tight and her stomach was doing flip-flops. He was looking down at her with that signature Hancock smile, but a strange kind of softness was present in his features. She could feel her breath catching in her throat and her pulse thundered in her chest like the beat of war drums. Whatever possessed her in that moment pushed her up on her tiptoes, closing the distance between them. He was so close, so…

“Hey, I need you to help me with something,” came Sturges’s voice from outside.

Sera froze and her head snapped to the side; from the corner of her eye, she could see Hancock’s doing the same. Before they were seen, she pulled away from his grasp. Her hand slid down his shoulder, lingering at his elbow for only a moment before she stepped outside with a steadying breath. “I’m coming,” she called, glancing back at Hancock. She had to take another lungful; he looked like a wounded puppy, still holding out his arms to her. She wasn’t sure if he’d even moved since they’d stopped dancing. But perhaps the distraction was a good thing. She was a damaged being with little left of her heart than a shred of what her humanity used to be. Hancock was more than she deserved. But the longing look in his eyes dredged up some kind of hurt within her and she could feel her stomach twist into a knot.

She hated admitting it to herself, but she wanted that kiss. She wanted what it promised and what it could have been. But she had to distract herself from the moment they’d shared. She followed Sturges out behind one of the market’s huts, and down a small path to a clearing that was on the river’s edge. It was there that an enormous setup of tubes and wires sat waiting. She recognized it immediately; it was a firework display. She hadn’t seen anything like it since before the war and it brought her a swell of joy to see, though she wasn’t even sure if it was out for its intended purpose.

“Holy hell,” she said with a broad grin. “Sturges, is this what I think it is?”

“Yup. Turns out that we have a few settlers with a passion for explosives, so we had them make some fireworks. To add to the evening, you see. At midnight, we’re gonna fire ‘em off and watch ‘em all soar like angels. We tested them a while ago just to make sure they explode proper and that the firing mechanism works, but I need your help running a few wires and setting the tubes. I need you to put three of these into each,” he said, tossing her a small ball that had a fuse stringing from a hole in the side. She caught it with ease and nodded. “Once you’re done with that, it’s just up to getting all the wiring plugged into the control panel and we’ll be good as gold.”

They went to work, connecting wires and setting fireworks with idle chatter between them. When they were finished, they stepped back to admire their work for a short minute before they jumped into action all over again. The two ran back up the path and into the building where her masterpiece awaited them and together, they carried the stereo out into the bar’s kiosk so that they could prepare the music of the evening. It had been decided that the music would be dictated by the ghoul girl that ran the desk at the hotel while the bartender did just that: tended the bar. Next was to plug in all of the string lights that decorated the space, and as soon as they did, the entire tree that stood in the center of the space lit up with color. Sera didn’t fight the soft smile that tugged at the corners of her lips upon the sight; it looked incredible. Around them, preparations were in full swing. Tables had been set with food and a swarm of people had gathered.

Apparently, Preston had invited a number of people that he knew from his time spent with Nora, so Sera made it a point to be as polite as she could to them. Sera was incredibly surprised to see that a synth had entered the settlement and had been openly welcomed. The settlers called him Nick, and knowing him on a first-name basis was enough of a comfort to let Sera relax; she knew that he didn’t mean harm. After him was Piper Wright, the reporter, and a small French woman in a lab coat and flats that introduced herself as Curie. Several more stragglers came in offering gifts of food and drinks, as well as a few music holotapes that were gathered in a basket that they placed on top of the stereo. By dusk, the area was swarming with settlers.

It wasn’t until a clock struck eight that the festivities came in full-swing. Sera excused herself to dress in something more preferable to herself for the evening; everyone had worn some kind of comfortable and welcoming clothing. Not too fancy but not armored to the teeth. For the sake of the evening, Sera decided that she could sacrifice her guise for the night and let the settlers have the big reveal that she was sure they were waiting for. She ditched he duster and the gloves and pulled on her bodysuit, which had been all but ignored in the bottom of her duffle bag. She’d almost forgotten how pleasant her figure was; the suit displayed in full effect the curve of her waist and the flare of broad hips, as well as a bust that was both pleasant and proportionate to her size. She admired her physique for a long while before finally pulling off the cap off. She let her hair fall in all of its wavy blood-red glory down to her waist and sighed softly; it was still just as silky and smooth as always. When she looked at herself in the mirror, she looked… well, she looked better. Her skin had returned to its natural color and she’d actually been able to get enough sleep for her dark circles to fade. She nodded in approval as she buttoned up a flannel shirt, then rolled up the sleeves. Were it not for her abnormal pigmentation, she could have passed for normal. Of course, she never felt safe unless she had a pistol strapped to her hip, so she also clipped on her utility belt and holstered her pistol neatly. With that, she felt prepared.

It took her a long time to gather herself enough to slip downstairs and into the empty lobby. When she finally breached the doors of the building and stepped outside into the evening air, she felt some of the tension drain away. Laughter and music intermingled with the scent of freshly cooked food and beer. She smiled to herself; this was what it was all about. Having fun and enjoying the little things. That in mind, she moved forward past one of the kiosks and hid way immediately at the bar, where she ordered a bottle of Gwinnett Stout from none other than Cait herself.

“How ya doin’ there?” Cait asked with a smirk, setting the bottle down in front of Sera after accepting her caps. “Not gonna join the dancin’?”

“What about you?” Sera retorted with an amused hum, taking the bottle and popping off the cap so that she could take a quick swig. “Aren’t you supposed to be celebrating with everyone else? You’re the General now, right?”

Cait shrugged nonchalantly and waved a dismissive hand. “I don’t dance. I’m more the shooting gallery type. Not much one for celebratin’ a job. But yer not one t’ talk; they’re here for you too. I know who ya are; yer Red, right? The lady who’s been doin’ all the settlement clearin’?”

“What gave me away?”

“Yer hair doesn’t leave much to interpretation, lass,” Cait replied simply. “Ya should let it down more often. It’s pretty.”

Sera chuckled and took a slow drink from her beer before turning on the stool to lean against the counter and watch everyone dance. “You’re just trying to flatter me.”

“Is it workin’?” Cait asked jokingly.

“Mm. Not quite, love. But you’re getting there.”

The two exchanged witty banter and idle flirts for a while before Cait finally started paying attention to the other customers that came and went, one of which being Piper. Between the three of them, a storm of conversation gathered that quickly swelled into a debate. That debate deflated when Sera bought them both beers and the three drank in the name of safety from the Institute and their health, for what it was worth. The trio soon started talking about themselves, telling about their time in the Commonwealth. Sera let it slip that she’d spent time in the Capital Wasteland, and far be it from the other two to pass up the opportunity to learn more about places that they’d heard of but never been to. So, story time it was, and it was a long time before Sera noticed that Hancock had joined them at the bar, listening in with a soft smile on his face. She grinned at him for a moment before returning to her beer and pulling her tale to a close with her entry to the Brotherhood of Steel ranks. Piper desperately wanted to know more, but Cait was only asking for another drink.

“Ladies,” Hancock finally said when Piper greeted him. “How are we this evening?”

* * *

She was a magnificent thing to behold. Her appearance was unhindered by overbearing clothing and she’d actually taken her hair down. The very sight took his breath away. When Piper moved out of the light, Red was bathed in the luminescent glow of strung-up lights. He had to take a moment to get his bearings; those eyes seemed to shine like starlight under the colored rays that beamed down from the décor. While Hancock was a sucker for flattering the women that he surrounded himself with, he couldn’t help but think that no one else could ever hold a candle to her. She was wearing one of those small smiles that she was so prone to that said that she was uncomfortable but trying her best to find some commonplace decency to keep it from showing. She masked it beautifully, but he knew how she was by now. Hancock had gotten a basic understanding of her mannerisms over their time spent together, and that smile definitely said plenty.

But when she talked to Cait and Piper, she seemed to glow like a candle. Her whole demeanor shifted from discomfort to pleasant ease. Her eyes were more welcoming than threatening and all-in-all, her mood seemed to have lifted quite a bit. She seemed much happier after getting so much weight off her shoulders that night at Preston’s quarters, and he was glad to see her more relaxed and letting loose. Hancock sat at the bar with them after a while to just listen to her talk; her voice had lost that forced roughness. It was then that he learned that her voice was silky and smooth, gentle as a flower in the breeze but with a seductive cadence that couldn’t be anything but natural. He paid close attention while she described the Capital Wasteland and the creatures there, as well as the time she spent with the people that lived in its ruins.

But he couldn’t focus on the story. He was just watching her; examining the crimson waves of her hair and that perfectly smooth skin. His mind wandered to their moment in the warehouse earlier and the way she smiled, those pearly whites shining past perfect lips, and he was regretting missing that chance. He was so close to getting to brush his fingertips along the line of her jaw and cup her cheek, just moments away from stroking her jawline with his thumb while peppering her with tiny kisses. Before he knew it, his thoughts started to get progressively more impure, not that they hadn’t been before. Only this time, it was more of a problem because she was right there in front of him, smiling in that way she did with a bottle in her hand and one arm draped across the counter’s edge. Her position suggested a challenge; ‘you go and think those dirty thoughts and see if I don’t call you on it’. She was the type of woman that could crumble empires; a man could want her and that would be the end of it all.

“Hey Hancock.”

It was Piper. Her voice shook him from his trance-like fugue state and into reality and he was quick to reply. “Ladies. How are we this evening?”

Red looked past Piper and smiled, holding out her beer to him in offering. “Want the rest? I think I’m just about done with this. Don’t wanna drink too much tonight. Dulls the senses and such.” He took it from her with his signature smile and took a sip, and he could swear that the beer tasted different from the rest. Or maybe he was just imagining it because it was hers. “I hope you’re enjoying the evening. Sturges and I put in a lot of work to make sure all of the attendees have a good time. I haven’t seen anyone leave drunk or crying yet, so I take it as a good sign,” she said with a grin, and Cait laughed at her joke. “But really. I hope you guys are having fun. I tried my best to get the stereo working nicely.”

“Luckily it isn’t too loud yet. Not till everyone starts dancing, at least,” Piper said with a sigh. “I’m really not looking forward to going deaf tonight.”

* * *

Piper could complain about the noise all she wanted. Sera was having a good time. When the music finally turned up and couples found their way out to dance, there was elation all around. Dancers gathered to enjoy the energetic tune of Magnolia’s song Train Train to start off the dancing, and Sera had never been so happy to drag anyone on the dancefloor as she was when Piper started complaining about it. The reporter and herself danced in swing, drawing plenty of attention from onlooking settlers and dancers alike, but soon, many more people caught on and did the same. It reminded Sera a lot of her dance with Haylen, except it was much less forced and more exciting. The song was better too, if she said so herself. Plus, her partner was more energetic than Haylen had been. Piper was complaining at first, but once she got into the dance, there was no stopping her.

In Sera’s mind, this was exactly what she needed. She had the chance to just dance with a friend and enjoy herself without a thousand pounds of responsibility resting on her shoulders. She felt free to just have fun for once, and she loved every single second of it. Slowly, that voice in the back of her head that told her she was failing started to drown in the clamor of music and celebration. But it wasn’t just the ‘fun’. It was spending time with people that she cared about and that gave her comfort and hope for a better future. Those that helped her heal over the last week. And in the case of one John Hancock, over the past two months.

As the music changed, the tone of the night did too. Things slowed down around 11PM, when everyone was starting to tire. The music slowed to the smooth arrangements of Frank Sinatra and others of a similar persuasion. Sera hung back to watch people dance during these, giggling when a drunken Cait danced lazily with Preston while mumbling about how soft his coat was. Piper had opted for dancing with Nick, whom had been happy to escort her onto the dance floor for her last venture of the night before settling in to wait for the grand finale and the toast of the evening.

Sera had something special in mind for her last dance. In her hand, she held a holotape. She wasn’t sure about the whole romance thing, and it still terrified her to even consider the thought. But she’d run the scenario in her mind a hundred times, and she kept leading back to two conclusions: one, things would go well and her PTSD wouldn’t kill anyone, and two, Shakespeare had a lovely quote that held the situation in regard. Better to have loved and lost than never loved at all. And lord knew that she’d never loved before. She was nervous as all hell, but for once, she wanted to at least try. Therefore, when the song ended and the next track’s turn came around, she tapped on the ghoul girl’s shoulder and handed her the holotape.

“Please play this,” she said with a soft smile, and the ghoul girl, whose name had been revealed to be Anica, pressed the tape into the player.

Smooth piano marked the beginning of the song as Sera approached Hancock with a sheepish smile and held out her hand all over again. He’d been sitting at the bar for the better part of the evening with small breaks now and again to go take a puff of jet with Mama Murphy. He wasn’t drunk, so that was a good sign, and he’d come down from his high several hours before. She felt like it was safe to say that he was in good health for a dance. She felt like a teenage schoolgirl standing there, a shy mess of mumbled words and a frown that suggested that she was uncomfortable but a blush that said otherwise. The cold and calculated overconfident badass had been reduced to an embarrassed nervous wreck.

“Please dance with me again,” she asked quietly, the pale stretch of her fingers extended to Hancock.

She was thankful that he didn’t keep her waiting. He tossed his cigarette aside and stood, slipping an arm around her waist and taking her hand in his. He guided her along the dancefloor till they stood under the lights of the tree and there they remained, exchanging small smiles now and again until Sera relaxed entirely and rested her cheek on his chest. She could hear his heartbeat; it was faster than a human’s and much more upbeat like he’d been running all day, but for a ghoul, it was perfectly normal. It was even relaxing in a way. She smiled softly at the sound, but it didn’t drown out the smooth crooning from Elvis that echoed in the background.

_But I can’t help falling in love with you._

The song wasn’t an accurate representation of how she felt; she certainly wasn’t in love. But she could undoubtedly feel some kind of spark lighting in her heart. It showed every time she felt that irregular jump in her chest, the flips of her stomach, the shortness of breath when he was oh-so-close. That familiar tingle she felt from her scalp to her toes and the warmth in her chest. Ah yes, she was definitely sure that she was attracted to him. She believed she was smitten with Maxson before, but no, she’d never felt like _this_ with him or anyone. Not until Hancock.

“Hey,” Hancock said softly, leaning in so she could hear his words over the music. “How about you and me sit down for a spell. I wanna talk to you about something.”

She reluctantly agreed, but she’d expected that the whole ‘you tried to shoot me’ issue would have to come up sooner or later. So she nodded and followed his lead when he guided her away from the other dancers and escorted her to a seat on the edge of the party where vacancy had been made by those that had stood to dance with their partners. They’d been pulled into the shadows, and Sera paused for a long moment to gaze up at the stars with her arms crossed beneath her bust as she looked on. The light of the moon bathed her in its luminescent glow, giving her skin its own kind of light against the unusual pallor. She smiled and took a slow, deep breath of the air, inhaling all the smells that were to be smelled of the Commonwealth at night.

“It’s beautiful,” she said quietly.

“C’mon and sit down,” Hancock said with a smile, patting the chair beside him. She quickly moved to join him and perched on the edge of the chair. “I’m sorry if this seems kinda uncomfortable. Uh… I wanted to ask… are you alright?”

Sera paused to cross her legs and shifted so that there was plenty of space between them. “I’m fine.” He was giving her an incredibly unconvinced look, but she wasn’t about to crack under his gaze. “It’s just… all that stuff that happened at the Institute. It got me pretty shaken up. I mean… I’ve done some horrible things in my day, but that? Boy…”

“What exactly did you do that made it so bad? I'm sure you've had your fair share of stacking up the head count.”

A pregnant silence hung between them, looming like storm clouds that threatened rain. “…It wasn’t just what I did. For a long time, I was held in a solitary cell in a white room. Hardly any food. Got some good water, though. They kept dosing me with poison and I was really weak. Well… on the last day, Nora was holding a knife to my throat, telling me to look my friend in the eye while she stabbed me. I couldn’t do something like that. I didn’t want to turn on a friend. I didn’t want to put her down. But she gave me no choice. I gathered up whatever strength I could find and I… tackled her to the floor… and I bashed her head into the tile till I could see bits of her brain scattering out of her skull.” Sera fell into wordless thought for a long time while she took a slow, steadying breath to keep herself from having another episode. “I bashed my friend’s skull in on the Institute’s atrium floor and didn’t stop until I lost all of the physical strength in my body. It… seems less horrifying the more I talk about it. But at first, even thinking about it tore me up inside. You saw what I did in the diner. It just… it’s hard to manage sometimes, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that. When I first moved into Goodneighbor, there was this asshole named Vic running the place. His boys didn’t have any self-control and sometimes they would go on these midnight attacks. Folks with homes could lock their doors, but us drifters had it bad. One night, someone said something to them… and they cracked his head open like a can of cram on the sidewalk. We all just stood there and watched. We were a bunch of cowards.”

“You were outnumbered and outmatched. You probably would have died the same way. Don’t confuse uneven odds with cowardice. If that’s how it worked, I’d be a coward for skirting around Deathclaw territory or swimming away when I hear a mirelurk queen wake up from a nap.”

Hancock sighed softly and shook his head, but he was smiling a bit and that made her happy. “After that happened, I got so high that I blacked out completely. When I woke up, I was in the floor of the Old State House, right in front of the clothes of John Hancock… John Hancock, first American hoodlum and defender of the people. Those clothes spoke to me. So I took the outfit and the name.”

Sera grinned at him and nodded in approval. “I like it. Seems like a good enough backstory; never have enough conversations with clothes nowadays.”

Hancock chuckled and crossed his legs, resting his arm over one knee while gazing out at the party below. “I convinced Kleo to loan me and some friends some weapons and we planned an attack to take care of him and his goons. The night of, we got loaded, let Vic’s boys get good and hammered. We came crashing in but they were all passed out and didn’t know their asses from a Yao Guai carcass. We didn’t even need to fire a shot…” he paused, his brows knit together in anger. “We didn’t need to, but we sure fucking did. And once they were taken care of, we went into Vic’s quarters, tied a rope around his neck, and threw his worthless ass off the balcony. I was up there draped in Hancock’s duds, looking down at all the residents assembled below. First time I said them, they didn’t even sound like my own words. ‘Of the people, for the people’ was my inaugural address. Became Mayor Hancock that day.”

“Mm. I’ll tell you my backstory some other day,” Sera said with a soft smile. “Mine’s a bit longer and a lot more complicated.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, though… why do you hide yourself in all that armor? And the voice thing you were doing… forcing it to be all rough and out of character… I know you were probably lookin' to avoid some questions with that all, but I gotta know. What's with that?”

Sera shot him a sly grin and her eyebrows rose. “Well for the most part, I was trying to be inconspicuous. Someone that looks like me tends to stand out in a crowd, you know? Lots of people like to ask questions because I’m not exactly normal. But other than that, I liked the idea of the big reveal. Horribly weighed down ogre was a beautiful princess all along, and all that bit. Did it work?”

He paused for a long moment, but a smile spread across his face. “Yeah, I’d say it did. Except I’m not much a fan of fairy tales and princesses and the like. I like the whole ‘Red the man turned out to be Red the kickass redhead chick’ angle.”

“Hm… my real name is Sera. You’re welcome to call me that, if you want.” She pulled on a sheepish smile. “I was trying to keep it on the down-low because I don’t want the Brotherhood tracking me down, but I guess the name ‘Red’ doesn’t exactly leave one guessing after seeing what I look like.”

"If it's any consolation, I like the way you look. It's exotic and all, but not in a bad way. You're the only person I know that could pull it off though."

She just chuckled softly and shook her head. "Mm. Your looks. 'King of the zombies', that's what you called it? It works for you. You'd never expect that after all that time spent with the Brotherhood learning all about how bad they are, that I'd be attracted to a ghoul. But I guess even the Brotherhood of Steel can't lead a horse a water and force it to drink." She looked at him for a long minute before nipping at her bottom lip. "Guess I've still got some stuff about myself that I need to figure out, but that won't stop me from enjoying myself. At least for tonight, I can let myself have this."

His expression softened considerably at that, but he didn’t get the chance to respond. Preston called out to everyone to gather for the toast, and Sera stood, holding a hand out to her companion. He took it with a grin and together, they wove through the crowd to the forefront with Cait and the minuteman. The Mr. Handy that lingered around Sanctuary brought them both glasses of wine on a silver tray, which they took gingerly into their hands while Preston waited for everyone to quiet down for his speech.

“This is it, everyone. One year of liberation from raiders, super mutants, feral ghouls… a year of safety,” he said with a bright smile. “It’s been a long road. But it’s been a damn fine one. I don’t need a long and fancy speech, I don’t need to tell all of you how amazing you are. Red, you’ve been more help than we could ask for. And Cait… you’ll do us proud. I know you will. To Red and Cait, and the safety of the Commonwealth settlements,” he said, raising his glass.

Everyone repeated his words in unison while they lifted their glasses, then together, they drank. One last song started playing over the stereo, but Sera’s attention was stolen within an instant. Fireworks soared over the settlement in bright bursts of colored lights, accentuated by applause and cheers. Their glow illuminated the world in bursts of red and green, white and yellow, blue and orange. The colors were reflected in her eyes… and Hancock’s. While everyone around them had started dancing again, she found herself staring all over again, eyes locked on his. He smiled at her and set his wine glass down, then took hers from her hand and set it with his own. Then, he slipped his arms around her waist and the two were joined in a lazy dance that took them absolutely nowhere. Her eyes were on his, and he held her gaze with the softest of smiles. It was an alien tenderness; Sera wasn’t sure how to take it. But she felt that the time was never better for her to tiptoe again.

This time, she didn’t have a last-second interruption. Nobody called for her attention, and if they did, she didn’t hear them or care. Her lips met his, and she could feel the world slow to a standstill. Lightning ran the length of her body, igniting a fire somewhere deep within while they swayed beneath the stars and fireworks. She reached up and cupped his jaw, tracing his cheekbone with the pad of her thumb to get a feel for the skin that she found there. It was surprisingly soft, though it was scarred and strange. Maybe that’s what made it so pleasant. But that wasn’t all there was; his lips were all but gone, but that didn’t stop her from kissing him anyways. In the back of her mind, the Brotherhood of Steel was making sounds of disgust, and the thought made her laugh against his lips.

“What’s so funny?” he asked while simultaneously hugging her a bit closer.

“I was just thinking about how the Brotherhood would look at this. They’d think it’s gross,” she said with a wide grin as a giggle escaped her.

Hancock squeezed his arm around her waist and chuckled. “I’d let ‘em watch. Maybe put on a show for them if they think it’s so despicable.”

She tried to laugh, but it was stolen from her as he cupped her cheek in his hand and kissed her again, this time with depth and intensity that was both surprising and pleasant as she snaked both arms around his neck, swaying in place to the music while her eyes fell closed and the world fell away. It was in that moment that she knew; if she were to spend her days wandering the Commonwealth with anybody in the world, it would be him. It had to be him.

When they finally broke away, she smiled softly at him, then hopped to kiss him on the forehead. Maybe if he didn’t tower a foot over her, she wouldn’t have had so much trouble. But that was the best she could do. She could tell he was still trying to hold on, but she had to pull away. The puppy dog eyes he gave her elicited weakness within, but she didn’t give in. The kiss was more than enough to sate her for one night, she thought. But that wasn't all.

Somewhere in her, a fear was growing. A fear that now, she had something to lose. That he'd never accept her when she told him what she was. Immediately, she could feel the darkness looming and the terror twist on the inside of her gut, forcing her to separate from him and take herself to bed. To sleep on it and hope that he was just having a really good day. Her mind was running laps while it screamed at her that she was going to get hurt or that she would hurt him; every conceivable warning light in her head was blowing up at a mile a minute. Her biggest worry was that she didn't truly have those feelings. They were just spur of the moment and out of the blue. That they would be gone and she was feeding him false hope. She feared more than anything that she was hurting Hancock the same way she'd hurt Maxson, and that made her heart jump into her throat and choke the life out of her. Sera couldn't properly register the entirety of the anxiety that passed through her all in that one blink of a moment, but she was incredibly certain of one thing: she was absolutely terrified of pursuing a romantic relationship. The emotional frigidity that acted as her defense mechanism inside her was coming back to the surface, coating her expression in solemn contemplation.

“Goodnight, Hancock,” she whispered, tugging away to leave for her hotel room. “I’ll expect you up bright and early. We’re heading out in the morning.”

He watched her go with a frown, hands resting at his sides as he whispered only to himself, “Goodnight, Sera.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the full effect of the kissing scene, I recommend listening to American by Lana Del Ray; that's where I got my inspiration from.


	16. Million Dollar Panic Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been so long since I've updated. College and work has me busy a large part of the time, but I haven't forgotten you all, I promise.

After the party, she’d pulled back on her duster and cap, then bought a new bandanna from one of the traders. They spent one final night at Sanctuary before they were to undertake the rest of the journey to the house. The following morning came with a multitude of goodbyes and going away presents. Several people provided stimpaks and whatever food they could spare and one person even gave them both a small bag of caps and a bowl of noodles. Sera was quiet as she watched Hancock gathering together the items that residents wished to bestow to them. This whole… come and go thing wasn’t anything that was new to him; he’d left Goodneighbor in much the same manner. Hancock accepted the gifts with kind smiles and polite dismissals, and after more than an hour of working their way towards the back exit to the settlement, they’d acquired a rather colorful collection of things that served as parting gifts from the settlers. Once they finally managed to make it out the back gate and trod through half a mile of dew-soaked ground and rock, they’d taken a four day long journey into the outskirts of the Commonwealth, their journey taking them to the mansion that Sera’s sister had left behind.

Within the wooded confines of private property resided an enormous home that only signified Lily’s husband’s status before the war. Brick walls stood two stories tall, decorated with dried up dead vines. The home was, for better or worse, entirely untouched. While fallout had caused the paint to peel and the wood to decay to a certain degree, the home still stood solid as ever and no signs of raiding and pillaging had presented themselves in the wooded area that the previous owners had inhabited. Mr. Handy bots drifted along as happy as ever, clipping away bits of leaves off of plants that had started to recover, as well as clearing away sticks and other assorted items that animals had carried onto the lawn. Two sentry bots stood vigilant over the front yard, armed to the teeth with their personal arsenals at the ready. Sera was the first to approach for identification and she had to clear Hancock for entry, but once she did, they were both allowed to enter the enormous building.

Sera’s first thought upon entering the building was ‘oh thank god’. The family’s Mr. Handy, so dubbed Henry, drifted about the home with a broom grasped in his claw hand. When he saw Sera standing at the door, he immediately discarded of the object to welcome her home and invite her guest – Hancock – to the various types of entertainment offered by the home that Lily owned. The main power to the home had died when the bombs fell, but thanks to Henry’s endless efforts, the home had retained basic functionality with a back-up generator. So yes, they had lights, working air-conditioning… and working plumbing. That meant she could shower, and that made her incredibly happy for a short time.

She explored the house to see what all was in working order first. She found that in the basement, the heater had been broken. As she worked her way through the house, she found that most of the items within had been maintained and in working order, though the intercom system needed several wires replaced. That aside, she found that nothing had been in poor order. When she found her way up to the second floor, she had to stop herself. Hancock was standing in silence in an empty nursery, staring at a teddy bear that he held in his hands. Sera stopped in the doorway to watch him set the toy down on a shelf and straighten its bowtie. There had never been a child in that room. Never a soul since Lily had lost the baby.

There was so much about him that she felt the need to learn, but it didn’t particularly matter anymore. Both of them were quiet for a very long time. Neither of them spoke about their last night in Sanctuary; not because the kiss was unwarranted, but because Sera’s untimely exit had made both of them slightly unsettled with the situation. For the most part, they hadn’t truly spoken at all. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to say anything about it; there was a lot she could say. But what _would_ she say? Her silence was more for herself to gather her thoughts than it was to keep herself from slipping up and saying something stupid, but she was still dwelling on those lonesome thoughts as she moved past the nursery and towards the master bedroom.

Sera found herself hesitant to open the door. She didn’t know what happened to her sister and brother in-law before the bombs fell. She didn’t know if they made it to safety. If she were to open that door and find something she never wanted to see; she didn’t need that extra mourning on her shoulders and in her heart. But she knew that she had to go in. Slowly, she grasped the knob and gave a gentle turn. With a deep breath, she pushed.

A clean bed. Fresh white linens, a cool breeze wafting through an open window and parted curtains. The scents of lavender in the air and the gentle colors of white and maroon characterizing the bedspread and carpet. Several small odds and ends sat around the room, which was far too big to belong to any single person. She pushed open the door to a walk-in closet and found a row of dresses and neatly lined up shoes, as well as suits and even more shoes. Drawers in the back were full of clean underwear, which Sera found to be a grand bit of fortune for herself.

It certainly didn’t take her long to select a clean outfit and charge for the shower. She tossed her cap on the bed and threw her duster over a chair that sat next to a vanity, then proceeded to abandon the rest of her clothing on the floor as she stumbled out of her boots and pants on her way to the shower. And lord be praised was it worth every single week of travel.

No one in the whole Commonwealth could ever appreciate a shower as much as Sera Carter did. Steam curled around her legs and snaked up her back, kissing her skin and caressing her tired muscles. Finally, she’d been able to just relax under the therapeutic heat of running water. It was both beautiful and wondrous to watch water funneling into the pipes, browned with dirt and other assorted muck that she’d been forced to travel with during their escapade. After so long, she could scrub the dirt out from beneath her nails. She’d picked several burrs out of her hair and even tugged stray bits of claws and teeth from her battles with wasteland wildlife out of her skin. Sera didn’t truly know how filthy her skin had grown to be until she’d finally had a chance to just wash it all away. She had to use old soap that smelled a bit off, but the shampoo still smelled like lilac and that was something that she was incredibly thankful for.

When she was finished with pruning her skin and rinsing shampoo from the thick waves of her hair, she stepped free of her haven and swaddled herself in a clean cotton towel. It felt scary how normal it all seemed. Leaving the shower wrapped in a towel alone to look herself in the mirror and examine just how much more like herself she looked. Her features had settled into their natural expression: satisfied disappointment. It was a resting bitch face, but it was her resting bitch face. Yes, things seemed much more normal. Even more so when she wandered out of the bathroom into the room to fish a fleece robe out of the closet, then tugged on a pair of panties and a bra before throwing the cloth over her shoulders. Ah, the softness. It was so pleasant, so warm. But she wasn’t done getting her fill of normalcy; she brushed her teeth and stepped into a clean set of bunny slippers, then wrapped her hair in her towel. From there, it was down the stairs to the kitchen.

Even from the stairs she could smell it; the unmistakable scents of meat and vegetables. Boiled tatoes, most likely. Her best guess was that Henry was cooking some kind of bird meat and had to make some makeshift ketchup. Sera smiled faintly as she passed the dining room and leaned against the kitchen’s doorway to watch him work; it seemed almost normal and it hurt her in a way to have a kind of normalcy in her life that had been lost for the last two hundred years. Nobody else had this. No one else in the whole commonwealth had the opportunity to shower like she did; they didn’t get to watch a Mr. Handy cook like she did. Many people in the world had lost many of the opportunities that had presented themselves to her at this current moment.

“What’s for dinner, Henry?” she said quietly as she approached.

The Mr. Handy looked back at her and paused for only a moment; there was no time for distractions. “I’ve got only a small portion of your dinner prepared, but I’ve managed to acquire some bloatfly meat for yourself and our guest.”

Sera paused for only a moment before she inched her way around the Mr. Handy and into the confines of the kitchen. Her goal was a simple one: she hadn’t had proper tea in a long time and now was finally her chance. But it seemed that Henry had already beaten her to the punch. On a small table in the back of the room rested a kettle of hot water, accompanied by a saucer and cup that held steaming tea within. She took a seat with a pleased smile as she gingerly lifted the cup to her lips to take a tentative sip. Ah yes, the flavors of home. Such a welcoming taste, she thought. The softest of hums rose from her as she took a whiff of the scents that the tea produced. The soft undertones of green tea and honey were like an aphrodisiac; they calmed her almost immediately to a point of rare relaxation.

“Where did Hancock go?” she asked suddenly, glancing over at the robot that was hard at work at the stove.

Henry looked back at her with one eye and waved a clawed hand. “He’s been exploring the premises since you arrived. I took the liberty of laundering his coat and pants in exchange for a pair of Martin’s old pajamas. I hope that won’t be an issue.”

The idea of Hancock wearing her deceased brother in-law’s clothing sent shivers down her spine, but she didn’t make a fuss. It wasn’t like Martin would be wearing them any time soon. She took a slow sip from her tea to have a moment of silent recollection. She remembered with fondness all of the time that she spent with Lily and her husband, playing piano while the newlywed couple danced in the foyer. Enjoying a homemade meal to celebrate the news of the child had been a favorite memory of hers. All of that was gone now, of course. But at least she had this home to now call her own, and that was enough to keep her happy to a point. It was better than living in the wastes of the Commonwealth; Lily would want her to be safe and healthy.

Time passed in silence as Sera made herself more tea. In the time she spent sipping lazily from her cup and refilling its contents, Henry had set the table and offered her a seat in the dining room. She politely accepted while he set out red wine and adjusted the items on the table to perfection. While she sat in silence and watched, he moved along to the attic to retrieve their ghoul companion from his drug-induced stupor for dinner. While he was gone, she’d taken to reading an old Grognak comic that she’d kept tucked away in one of the many cabinets in the kitchen.

After what seemed like a good hour, Henry drifted into the dining room humming a soft tune that had been programed into most of the butler models of the Mr. Handy so that they seemed more human and approachable. Sera’s eyes guided past the bot to the person behind him, meeting those of a jet-high Hancock. He offered her a hazy smile as he slid into a seat. She simply scoffed and sipped at her tea; she didn’t particularly approve of how much his jet use had picked up since they had embarked on their journey from Sanctuary to the mansion. It seemed like he took a hit at every opportunity, and she couldn’t help but feel that it was partially her fault that he was so keen on hitting the drugs more than usual. After all, they hadn’t breathed a word about the kiss they’d shared. That was the way she liked it, but it seemed that he was taking it a tad bit harder than he should have.

She took a breath of a moment to note that he still wore his tricorner hat with the pajamas he’d procured from Martin’s old wardrobe.

“You’re high,” she mused idly, sipping from her tea with a deathly serious glare scoping him out over the brim of the cup. “Too much jet, I’d say.”

He shot her a look, but she was quick to ignore it. Sera was aware that her words had no place in this conversation. It seemed like she was just hunting for excuses to distance herself. But that didn’t matter to her. There was little she could do about the fact that she was, in fact, simply not okay with emotional attachment. In the wasteland, there was an enormous amount of death that was unavoidable for the most part. She could no more fix that than she could make the sun set in the east. No, she was sure that finding something worth losing was one of the dangerous mistakes that many settlers made. It was true that he already counted in the category; nothing would ever change the fact that she’d found some kind of connection in the man. But she also didn’t want to cry when she found that she was too wounded to keep going. She didn’t want to have to burry a lover. They’d already gone too far.

Her thoughts were broken when Henry asked if she’d like more tea. Her gaze lifted to the bot, whom held her tea pot in the claw of his ‘hand’, holding it out to her in offering. She sighed and held her cup out to promptly accept.

From there, Sera and Hancock were left in the silence of the dining room with their respective meals. Both went untouched for a long while. Ten minutes passed, then fifteen. The most sound in the room was when she partook of her tea and set the cup down on its saucer. She found herself looking up at Hancock at periodic intervals, waiting for him to break the tight-pulled thread of tension by doing _something_. Anything. But he just met her gaze, pools of black connecting with icy blue. She tensed as she took up her tea cup to sip again.

“So, we’re just gonna avoid this all, huh?”

Snap. The handle of the cup broke in the tightness of her grip, causing her to drop the entire dish on the table, where it promptly took it upon itself to just shatter. Tea pooled over the wooden surface and stained the table cloth, and both of them simply watched the liquid’s progression as it soaked and stained the fabric. Then, Sera glared up at Hancock and locked her jaw while doing her damnedest to keep from grinding her teeth before releasing a heavy, slow sigh. She truly didn’t want to, especially at the dinner table. As a matter of fact, she didn’t have to. She took her plate in one hand, and with a nails-to-chalkboard scrape, slowly pushed the chair back to announce her exit. It was impolite of her to do so, but she desperately had to excuse herself from the table, from the conversation, from his presence… she had to eat in peace and try to get her thoughts in order. Quickly and quietly, she rushed to the study and slumped down at the desk. Even then she couldn’t eat.

* * *

Back in the dining room, Hancock was glaring at the table where bits of broken porcelain had scattered across the wood of the table. Things weren’t really that bad, were they? Was it because of his reputation? Or maybe it was just that he was a ghoul. No, that wasn’t it. If that was it, he’d definitely have known. There was a fine line between genuine and forced and he knew it incredibly well. She was on the lighter side of that line, he knew it for sure. So why did she do so much to avoid it?

He sighed as he stood from the table and set his fork aside. This was ridiculous. He refused to put up with it anymore. Many things was John Hancock, but one for beating around the bush wasn’t one of them. He liked to be blunt and he preferred the same courtesy. Without so much as a word to Henry, he abandoned his seat to go hunt down his companion. She wasn’t hard to find, of course. He could hear her mumbling past an enormous ebony door; he knew very well that nobody else mumbled quite like that. She often did so when she was angry or in her sleep. He didn’t even bother knocking. He’d prepared the speech in his mind all day; even when he’d taken a hit of jet, she was on his mind while he tried his damnedest to figure out what to say. But one quickly found that under pressure, it was rather easy to – for lack of a better term – fuck it up royally.

“Listen up, Red,” he began as the door swung open to reveal her hovelling in the desk chair with a small piece of meat clutched in her hand. “We have some things to talk about. This is getting ridiculous.”

She stood faster than he’d ever seen anyone move, and within mere moments, she was gripping the front of his pajamas and dragging him towards a small couch in the center of the room where a coffee table sat surrounded by regal-looking furniture. Before anything had been clearly mapped out mentally, he was in the couch and she was lighting a fire in the fireplace. “Talk, Hancock.”

He sighed, slow and heavy. Before proceeding, he adjusted himself on the couch so that he sat comfortably, then clasped his hands in front of him. She took a seat in the chair adjacent to his own seating, staring him down. He almost felt threatened by the absoluteness of her presence. Now more than ever, he felt the strength that her position held radiating off of her. She had a certain kind of charisma about her that, even to someone like him, was astonishing. Only someone like her could do so much so quickly.

“It’s nice to see that things are getting back into place in the Commonwealth, Red,” he started, choosing his words carefully. “But something with you is haywire. You’re… not you. Or hell, maybe you are. This thing that you’re pulling… being all weird about something that’s just part of human nature… it ain’t okay. It’s childish. I get it if you aren’t lookin’ for anything like that, but avoiding me and being an asshole ain’t gonna make you feel better. So why the hell are you acting so… reclusive?”

“I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“I think you do. We’ve been traveling together for damn good while, and up till that night, things were just peachy. And suddenly they aren’t?”

He could tell that he was pushing her buttons. Her brows had knit together tightly and she started working her jaw, shifting back and forth in place while she stared him down. He suddenly didn’t feel quite so brave about approaching her about her attitude. “Don’t question me, Hancock. I’ve been through a hell of a lot to make it this fucking far, and I didn’t live this long with kisses and good tidings. Don’t take it personally.”

He frowned then. Yeah, he got it. It made sense; everyone had been through a lot. But this was just stupid. “We’ve all seen some bullshit, Sera.” Her name was still so alien on his lips. So strange to say; he’d almost forgotten that it belonged to her. “But now you think you’re safer by locking yourself away in this…” he motioned around the room, though the scope of his words expanded to the entirety of the home, “million-dollar panic room. That’s not right, and you know it isn’t. This is stupid, Sera, and you know it is. This all… the whole icy cold thing… it isn’t you. Sure, you were a blank slate before, but now? Now you’re just being… bitchy.”

“Shut the fuck up,” she hissed, gripping the arms of the chair. “Just shut up. Stop. This is all I have left, Hancock. It’s all I have.”

“Where the fuck even are we? You seem to know everything about this place, yet haven’t told me anything. What is it that you’re not telling me, Sera?”

That’s when he noticed that she just… shut down. Her expression faded from anger to sorrow to emptiness. The transition was so fast that had he not been watching her so intensely, he wouldn’t have seen it. There was something that he could very easily tell she wasn’t telling him. And he definitely wanted to know exactly what it was that she was keeping from him.

“It’s the only way that I feel like I can keep you safe,” she whispered, her gaze falling to the floor. God, he could feel his heart twisting just because of the tone of her voice. The pure sorrow in her words. “It’s all I have left of my life, and the only safety I can provide you.”

* * *

She knew that it seemed ridiculous. He’d seen her in the field first-hand, he knew how good she was with a gun, and yet here she was, telling him that she couldn’t protect him. She was fighting, God she was fighting, to keep herself from crying. To keep herself from betraying weakness. But when she looked at him, those deep pools of black stared back at her expectantly and begged her to say she was okay, pleaded with her to tell the truth. But to say she was okay was a lie, and as much as she wished she could say so, she knew deep in her heart that she wouldn’t. It brought her to tears, because as terrified as she was, she did long for that kiss. For that freedom and tenderness that she’d been denied for over two hundred years. For her whole life. She thought of all the times she’d tugged at her mother’s dress as a child, begging for attention but her mother had been so preoccupied with her father’s need for whiskey and bourbon that she didn’t have as much time as she’d have liked. How she’d waited for so long for her father to come home after joining the military that one night she simply gave up waiting.

She broke down.

“You’re all I have in this whole world,” she whispered, tears pooling in her eyes and staining her cheeks. Her body seized up as she pulled herself closer into her center, as if she could blink herself out of existence. “This home was my sister’s. I’ve seen so many people die for me, because of me, around me. I’ve seen so many things go wrong, and as soon as I found a small ray of light that was strong enough to push through the smoke, I still wasn’t brave enough to reach out and try to touch it… until it touched me first. I’ve been so… alone… I don’t want anything to lose. I can’t lose someone else. I can’t let myself…” She had to stop to take a deep breath. She could feel her words collapsing in on themselves; she didn’t have the strength to keep going if she couldn’t even breathe. “You don’t understand how much I’ve been through to make it here. How scared I am to just… hold your hand. How it scares me to think that just a single touch could seal your fate.”

He leaned forward, resting his upper arms on his knees so that he could look at her. The closer she looked, the more she saw. She noted immediately that in those dark pools of inky black, she could discern the slightest hint of color. A semblance of green, the tiniest flecks of gold… they were beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Such a strange thing in such an ugly world. The thought caused her to relax a bit.

“Sera, you need to tell me why you’re so afraid. I promise, I ain’t going anywhere. Ghouls usually don’t if they ain’t got a bullet in ‘em.”

She was so hesitant to explain. To tell him exactly what she’d told Maxson. Perhaps it was best that she did, for his sake and for her own. “I am not what you want me to be, Hancock,” she said quietly. She went on to carry on… in explicit detail… what all she’d done and faced in the past two hundred years. She told him all about the FEV, about the Brotherhood of Steel, about traveling to the Capital Wasteland and beyond. She told him about the ugly parts of the world, as well as the beautiful ones. She laid out a perfect scene to explain what the Mojave was like, even glorified the Capital Wasteland. But her tale got darker the deeper in she got. She told him about the life she’d led before. About Marisol and her neighborhood. About leaving her whole life behind to pursue better things. How she’d joined the Brotherhood.

How she’d been terrified the day she kissed him; terrified that from then on, she’d live in constant fear of losing someone that she held so dear. How even then, she was so terrified to say these things. How they’d never been more real in the back of her mind than they were in the very moment that she said them aloud, though when she spoke this time her words were just below a whisper. But she couldn’t linger on the one topic. She explained in the softest of voices how she’d lost those that she’d cared about most. How Danse died, how she’d seen so much potential in Nora, only to be the one to put her down. How she’d loved her family so much before they had died. How she’d tried to love before, but she couldn’t bring herself to get close. How even when she kissed Maxson, nothing in her heart changed. It was all the same.

She stopped when she came across the thought that kissing Hancock himself had been much different. Luckily, he didn’t make her feel like she had to speak anymore. He stood quietly and held a hand out to her so that he could pull her into a tight hug, his embrace of titanium. She felt safe. So comforting was the scent of pine needles and general musk, yet so clean and fresh-smelling; she believed for the first time in a long time, she was at home. She hadn’t taken much notice when he pulled her down to sit on the couch with him, fingers lazily trailing through the crimson locks of her hair. Eventually, the gentleness of his touch and the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat was enough to lull her to sleep.

 


End file.
